my stupid comment
silent but tasteless
tick’d her off
her palms and finger’s
kung fu flyers
flailing from her body
hitting me
hurting me
without touching me
later
my penitence
my standing
on a breath of bend’d knee
flutter’d before her eyes
till we both surrender’d
embrac’d
and cultivat’d smiles
on deaf hands
loujen haxm'Yor 
It’s always the hardest part, isn’t it – making up. I was touched by your poem. And the illustration adds layers.
Many thanx for your comment and visit, Otto.
so sweetly expressed!
if only regret & gratitude
flowed from us
like an eternal spring 🙂
If only…