I can’t apologize for the crippling
depression that held me under water.
I can’t apologize even though I want to.
The thing is we both went through
changes, depression changed me and
the bitterness of what you wanted and
want we had changed you. You never
apologized to me and truthfully I
didn’t expect you to. It’s hard to see
you’ve done anything wrong when
you’re always the victim. And I’m many
ways you were a victim. A family that
cast you aside, people taking you for
granted but as much as you held against
me for what I wasn’t I still did everything
I could to love you every day more than
I did the day before. I’m only sorry I wasn’t worth more to you that my love didn’t
matter. So here we are, superset lives again.
Different paths leading who knows where.
It’s no secret that this story of US wasn’t
close to a fairytale and we both know
that any story with me as a center figure
will only end up as a shot show. What I do
know is I held our time in our waking
nightmare as a beautiful memory. Even
though in your eyes I would wake up,
fuck off all day, go to sleep and wake up
to repeat the entire process. Sometimes
that’s exactly what happened. I only wish
you knew the torture I felt in my heart
every single damn day but you didn’t care.
The truth is, when I brought it up you
dismissed it by saying you’d been depressed
before and you climbed out of it. If I’m being
fair you weren’t living the nightmare I was,
ever. That’s ok though. We all deal with our
pain differently. As a poet and writer I’m a
real sucker for happy endings and happily ever after. We and I riding off into the sunset with
that tiny dog, in love and full in love. Happy endings aren’t real though and I finally see
that. That hopeless romantic in me has died.
I have a feeling I’d you’d closed your eyes
and listened to what your heart desires it
would have spoken my voice. It would have
reminded you that I loved you, even when
you were a huge pain in the fucking ass.
If you’d listened to your hearts whispers
you’d held on and never gave up because
what we had, what I though we had I thought
was the real deal. Like most things I thought
about were just more stories this poor lost
writer made up in his head. If we’d listened to each other we’d held on no matter what and
if we truly beloved no matter how many times
shit got fucked up and fell off the rails we’d
still be holding hands instead of me wishing
until we meet again.
To you it’s all over. In my heart, my head and
deep in my soul it’s just time standing still and all that’s left is you, me and goodbye.