When I opened that door marked sorry 
I never expected nor knew 
there’d be recriminations 
despite my persistent contrition.

And when I entered each punishment 
Became an extra judicial banishment
Despite my promises to do better 
I lost what I thought was a progressing love.

Then there was that last time.

I still am sorry.
I still want to open that door.
I still want to walk through that door
I still want to. But. Alone. With another. Without you.