"Guilty Man"

Can they see the sin embedded in the depths of my skin?

Are they able to hear my repentance crying out like a firstborn without stretched wanting hands?

I know what I did. But was it really me?

Can I be human for a second and deny it was the demon from within me?

Would you believe this pitiful excuse or see me with obvious eyes.

I’m just going to confess already, it was me.

I did it.

Yes I did.

But can I admit that everyday somehow I still mourn.

Is this how a widow feels?

Missing a piece of her that can never be refilled.

I should have smiled.

Did what was ask of me with all smiling teeth.

Rub your feet while you nod yourself asleep.

Oh! How I committed a crime that wasn’t undermined because since February 15, 2016 I’ve been doing my time.

No longer is this beautiful lady with short cropped curly hair here.

No more of her famous dish of delicious melted creamy mac and cheese.

No more homemade chocolate chip cookies that just melt in your eager awaiting mouth.

No more of her stopping me in the hallways grabbing my hand before I went to go take a nap.

How annoying then how heart sobbing wrenching now.

Instead of holding her warm hand and squeezing it back I snatched it away.

Oh how I wished I held unto that warmth instead I feel as cold as the day I watch her lying hands placed tight at her sides.

Oh! What a day her whole body was turning grey.

Where is she now?

Oh grandma! i'm sorry!

Is it too late to ask for one last motherly wet kiss?

Will I ever forgive myself and let go of this guilty man...

This poem is about: 
My family


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