forgive me no more (revised, in need of a better title)

Forgive me—
my preference to see things unobstructed.
The seagull breaking open a mussel,
dropping it on the cement path below,
swooping;
sand piled by a tractor comb;
the pier’s cleaning stations caked with scales and dried blood.
Forgive me—
my over-analysis of process and grit:
time spent contemplating the color of water;
the sky when overcast, sunny.
These details are my burden, my joy.
Same with living in this body:
a freckle’s slight raise;
hair soft and missed; short and returning.
The smile that escapes.
Words too,
“Forgive me, I do not apologize for myself anymore.”

—
This is a rewrite of this. Thanks to those who provided feedback on the first draft. I’d love suggestions for a new title.

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