by Theo Kogan
I still have needles from your cactus in me they wouldn't hurt if you just said you're sorry I've waited lifetimes and I see now clearly I'll never get it and I'll keep on living
I'm a whisper I'm a wish I'm an eggshell crushed easily I'm next to nothing on the verge of something a spec of dust or a deep dark sea
I lick the scratches from your thorn bush on me they tend to prick me less than regularly I pick the scabs off as I watch them healing I now accept you'll never say you're sorry
I'm a mountain I'm a cave I'm lush and blooming and warm and safe I'm a river I'm awake I'll keep on learning from your mistakes