You can’t apologize to the dead.
Your exegesis of the received text of your life
Blows away in the wind, unheard.
The memories, though, are indelible.
They wait to ambush you
In unguarded moments.
Thich Nhat Hanh said to think of the lost
Smiling down on you and forgiving.
Nice image and balm which doesn’t make up
For your having been such a dick.