Panic After Repentance

Saw your name today.
Written on a scrap of paper.
Thought I could deal,
but I went up in flames.
My heart
stopped.
My head
pounded.
I thought I was going to be sick.
Pit of my stomach felt
dread and
(sorrow?)something else.
Maybe sorrow.
Probably guilt.
How long has it been now?
Not long enough, I guess.

My apologies were
given, but you don't need those.
You never did.
My sins against you were
sufficiently awful that no apologies would
ever
be needed.
You'll harbor my sins in your
heart for years.
Forever? Maybe.
I don't know.
And any who know them will
Give you their sympathy.
You won't need me or my apologies, heartfelt or
not(?).

Knowing my guilt, and my innocence,
is a process for me.
Peeling back layers of
responsibility.
I own my sins
against you.
But not all the sins I have committed
against you
in your mind.
I will not own your paranoia.
I will not own your lies.

That said, you would think
I could deal
with the thought of you.
I sound so
responsible, so
healed.
But I can't even
read your name.