Intentions

If I could,

I would transmute your apologies

And

Build a paper boat to sail away

Until my hull dissolved, and I sank

To the murky deep, anchored by

You're sorry.

Or:

Construct a ladder to climb halfway

To the moon, and, suffocating, fall

Back to Earth, set alight by

You're sorry. 

Or:

Cobble a coffin to make my bed

And sleep dreamless, become mulch

For the worms, to rest beneath

You're sorry.