Poorly Worded

You thought my speech
An alibi.
I tried to reach
And to deny
The silent screech
Behind my eyes.
As I beseeched,
You thought I lied.

Who now can teach
A heart that’s plied
How then to reach
Past words that fried
The sands and beach
Where now we lie
Clinging to each
Bit of blue sky?

Into the breach:
At the quayside,
Recall the beach
We once walked, side-
By-side, where each
Black flame of pride—
Cleansed and bleached—
Flickered and died.

Now you have reached
The darkened pit of my
Heart’s bitter peach,
As "apple of my eye."

But please don’t impeach.
For all clichés apply,
And you now are each
And every thing that I
Could and would not
Ever deny.