Are you kidding me, remorse?
I'm still mired in that quintessential bog that exists somewhere between denial and anger.
It's still a long way to remorse.
(I hope HE feels some remorse.)
Despite it all, despite everything
I don't think I could ever really feel remorse.
How could I?
When I came out of it all with such a wonderful gift, such a beautiful joy?
Now all of my days have little fingers and toes, a sweet baby smell and a cute little nose...
Ok. I'm SURE he feels remorse.
And maybe, mired in my bog, I've found temporary shelter an a teeny little island called Pity.
It's a start.