Sorry Not Sorry

If you had to give up one word that you use regularly, what would it be?

If I cut the word sorry

from my mouth,

it would bleed
and ooze

like an abscess.

All the rot
from the moments
I should have said —

No.
Enough.
Mine.

— spilling on the floor.

It would be a relief.

I’ve always used sorry
to make myself smaller.

So let them choke
on the silence,

left without empty apologies
for sins that were never mine.