Nine

(sorry)

There
is
no
divinity.
There
is
only
you
and
me.
Is
it
poetry?
The
way
I
beg
to
bleed?
I’m
sorry.
I.
Am
sorry.
For breaking your gaze in the way your hand moved, a motion toward me, an undertow of devotion, devoted to the ocean floor… heartbroken. Sorry.