flirtesy gone one line awry

I pretty much broke your heart with
my crack, 
I see. 
My bad, 
however
I meant. 
Intent and the price 
of all English tea 
I could toss for a scone 
in this ocean contempt. 
My bad, 
but the fault 
is clear in you. 
With mine intact, 
I will take all blame 
as a courtesy I respect 
is due. It's about what 
you would expect exact 
from me. Anyway I can 
see this moment's no game 
to cheer or call. I will judge 
me out by your whistling 
eyes, and if anyone's steamed 
let's acknowledge without 
surprise disappointment 
or much to be smug 

My bad is one fit 
foul call run amok, 

and I call it fair. 
For I hurt where 
I hit, trying not 
to make points 
so wrong. I'm 

it! Tag 
is a game we 
grownups play 
too real sometimes 
in a flirt with death 
and a race to life 
ending each way 
through. It's 

a pity I spoke 
so little untrue 
and so much 
unjust, as you 
fairly call. I 

didn't think so 
interpretable, 
and by my 
plain words 
running back 
through minds, 

you didn't hear 
wrong, I misspoke. 
Not kind. If that's 
your kind of apology, 
just click accept by 
a nose-beep see? 

Press wink for maybe
Hit pound for screw 
Plus whatever or 
worse it occurs 

to you. It's 
true, and as real 
as the best 
we had 
to give 
in a moment 

gone rather too bad. 
So I'm sorry. I said it, 
if I had to again? I'd 
say it again, but 

you know 
Only 'cause you said 
I had to again. 

What goes without saying 
bears repeating if asked. 
I'm sorry five times slow, 
five times fifty times 

fast