Emollition

words spin like whistling-wind leaves
gliding on the fall breeze,
goosebumps erupting across skin
like the wave in the stands,
crowds cheering as it
undulates through the stadium.

sorry: a five-letter catastrophe
with 'too many times' printed
in between each letter,
reminiscent of all those tough-skin days
and ripped-apart nights pushed to the back of my memory,
tumbling over and over and over each other
and even though it's not you who repeated it,
night after night, year after year  --
well, am i punishing you
for the mistakes they made?

but my chest is inhabited by a liquid-fire-filled cup,
and each sorry, each hurt
drops inside like a wished-on penny into a fountain,
spilling just a few more flames every time
out onto my lungs,
scorching me from the inside-out.

i know i will forgive you,
but first i need for the burns to metamorphose
from pink-seared skin to red-blistered nightmares
to popped and oozing to finally:
new skin - slightly discolored,
a blank-faced memory
that will soon fade into the rest of
my scars.

and i want you to know,
i will come back to you --
a little charred, but yours
because you are still the remedy
to these sunless days.