Standing on the razor edge
everywhere I look
all that I can see
are reflections;  
  flawed.
How do I find the volume to speak
when it is volume 
that has caused this storm?
Bathed in ice,
I wish there were words that could construct
  your forgiveness.
Shadowy doses of regret clog my arteries,
  catch in my pulse.
I wish I held in my bleeding hands
  the answer,
the means to change what I've done.
And I know that these tears
are only going to fall
  with me
but never leave me clean.
If I could only convey these needles
inside me
  maybe you'd see the truth
  in my footsteps.
But who am I
to chalk arrows on your path?
I have only an umbrella of words for shelter.
  Words; my weakness.
All that is left as I balance here
  is hope
and even that is a switch
far from the pieces
  left of me.
You have no water to swallow those 5 letters
  so I'll understand if you choke.
In this place where vocabulary riots,
all I can offer you
  is sorry.