1. there are inkstains left in

there are inkstains left in
all the places i've been &
each time i clean my mess
i make another of
soap suds & giggles
diluted dark puddles
shrugged apologies that know
messes are inevitable 
& likely already in the making
by the way i'm falling backwards
the way i look in the mirror after
a fitful night
​a mistake i only know how to apologize for