4 result(s) for Sorry For The Past Poems.
These poems are completely original - not copied from anywhere. Feel free to use them however you want.
Twilight's Regrets
In twilight's embrace where shadows blend,
Soft whispers of regret in stillness send.
The echoes of words, unspoken, hung,
In the heart's silent chambers, sorrow is sung.
We danced on the edge of a fragile dream,
Now lost in the glow of a fading gleam.
With every regret that lingers and sighs,
Like stars slowly dimming in twilight skies.
I'm sorry for moments that slipped through like air,
For the times I was distant, unaware, uncare.
Yet in this soft twilight, let healing ignite,
As whispers of hope weave through the night.
Whispers of Yesterday
In shadows of forgotten words, we roam,
Lost conversations echo through the dome.
Each syllable, a ghost, lingers near,
Carving paths of silence, shaded by fear.
I search for closure in the spaces torn,
Where laughter once danced, now silence is worn.
Sorry for the past, for lines left unsaid,
Each moment a thread in the tapestry shed.
Speak to me softly, as evening descends,
Let the healing whispers be where it mends.
For in the abyss where our echoes reside,
I seek your lost voice, where love will abide.
Reflections of Regret
In the mirror, a stranger's gaze meets mine,
Haunted by shadows of choices malign.
Whispers of laughter still echo in dreams,
Yet shimmering ripples conceal fractured seams.
A past full of echoes, a tapestry torn,
Of paths left untraveled, of hearts worn and worn.
With every reflection, I search for the light,
Hoping to mend what once felt so right.
So I stand in the silence, this moment my plea,
For forgiveness from ghosts, to set my heart free.
In the glass, I discover a truth I must face,
In the mirror of time, I confront my disgrace.
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Whispers of the Current
In the quiet bends of time's vast flow,
Echoes of sorrow softly echo low.
Each ripple a memory, past's tale to tell,
Drifting like leaves from a wishing well.
Sorry for shadows that dance on the shore,
For words left unspoken, the wounds we bore.
Yet in every current, a chance to renew,
In the river of time, we find something true.
