Finding solace again

Two poems I should send you but never will.

Sunny Sequeira, UTA Staff Editor

Illustration of pedestal sink and mirror. On the mirror are the words “I’m sorry,” which overlap with an outline of a human.
(Illustration by Adelaide Miller)

i forgot your number and it shames me 

grief chugging up my throat 

whenever i think of you —

i still haven’t returned

your last call. 

 

we spent twelve years 

memorizing each other’s 

handwriting but i can’t 

even type out a few words.

 

i just don’t know 

how to say it. 

i tell everyone but 

you that i’m sorry.

 

sorry to the bathroom mirror 

i keep forgetting to clean and 

sorry to every person 

i bump into on the street. 

 

sorry to those two summers

i never talked to you

and sorry to the months

in between when i never tried. 

 

my parents always said

i was a people pleaser

i fear i’ve become 

the opposite. 

 

still i wonder if 

you’ll ever forgive me. 

 

i’m only writing you this 

because you’ll never see it 

(so help me god)

An illustration of a person’s hand writing a letter with a pencil. At the bottom of the letter, in parentheses, are the words “I’m sorry.”
(Illustration by Adelaide Miller)

on the days i know how to apologize

i return your texts. 

i tell you about my day. 

 

i send a photo of

the book that reminded

me of you and don’t 

hesitate to suggest we

read it together. 

 

i remember to

eat breakfast

and wash the 

dishes after. 

 

i go to class.

i even take notes. 

 

i sit on the 

couch and read. 

i don’t listen to 

music too loud.

 

i agree to call on 

saturday. i don’t lie 

about my week. 

 

i write you a 

letter and you 

write me mine

and i smile seeing

your handwriting

hasn’t changed. 

 

Contact Sunny Sequeira at [email protected]