PAGODA'S ASHES:PHOENIX RISING

                Yr body is yr temple, and
I'm sorry for passing you around
like a stale cigarette-
                for discarding you,
                like trash.

I'm sorry for all of the holes
I stabbed into yr face-
                (.needle.meets.skin.meets.hole.meets.metal.)

I'm sorry for avoiding mirrors
                         to avoid you.
For calling you ugly-
                (for comparing His face to yrs.)
I'm sorry,
                but the sight of yr face
                made me sick.

I'm sorry for holding yr secrets in,
& letting yr insanity out.
                For bottling up yr emotions,
                and taking up aggression.

I'm sorry I took advantage of yr
                                       addictive
                                       personality-
picking up more fixes than I
could count on my fingertips.
                For ignoring yr pleas for sanity,
                & giving into a life downstream.

I'm sorry I tore a scar into yr left arm
               with a cigarette lighter,
               and then looked at you in disgust.

(I tried to draw yr face again today-
                but I failed miserably!
                How could I have forgotten yr face?)
I'm sorry.

I'm sorry for calling you a
                .bastard.blacksheep.orphan-child.ingrate.

I'm sorry for teaching you regret, guilt, & shame-
                & for all of the secrets you have to keep.

(I forgot how to say yr name once-
                then I disowned it….
                and I'm sorry.)

I'm sorry for turning yr body
                into a time bomb-
                for turning yr brain into a cosmic mush.
(how you can feel it wasting away)

I'm sorry for almost making you lose yr virginity
                 to a man who is now serving a life sentence
                 for two counts of attempted murder.

                 I'm sorry I let you kiss him-
                 for breaking the law for him-
                                  just months after he turned
                                  a man into a vegetable.

I'm sorry-I didn't know.

I'm sorry I never told yr Father
                to burn in Hell.
                I'm sorry he never gave a damn
                                                                about you.
                I'm sorry I told you it was yr fault.

                (I'm sorry I made you hate
                the word Father.)

I'm sorry for giving you nightmares,
                and the random flashbacks
                to keep you from forgetting
where and what it was you came from.

I'm sorry for flooding yr mind with outlandish thoughts-
                for haunting you with yr fears.
I'm sorry I made you think
that you were crazy.

I'm sorry for not saying sorry sooner…

I'm sorry for all of the stupid shit I made you do-
                for the fucked up scenarios I put you through--
                for making memories that are slowly destroying you.

For everything. I am sorry.

And,
I'm sorry, but as long as I've been trying
               to avoid ever writing this poem,
               these words still formed in my mind--

               dying to be formed by my fingertips
into pen-drips…

But I know-
                and today I can say,
                you are beautiful,
                                 and I love you!

And everything we have gone thru,
                has made me who I am today.

I am beautiful,
               and I do--
                      I do love you.