My Mistakes

My mistakes

have never just been

mistakes.

They are the personal insult 

on your favorite cousin,

once removed,

who you see every other year.

They are the creepy crawlies 

that burrow under your skin,

a human reaction

you deny exists.

They are the roadblock 

you ran through

after a night of too much drinking,

taking a Toyota Tacoma,

and a driver with two kids,

with you. 

They are the sound of the drums

that beat signaling

another world war. 

My mistake

of spilling dark red wine on your new carpet

is unforgivable

in your eyes

as your head shakes with disappointment 

because "I should know better".

Sorry. It was a mistake. I'll show myself out.