Pinnacle moments pass us by quickly and sharply.
Cynical thoughts control the fear marking out goals in Sharpie.
Mental games of why do I deserve such pain, even partly,
and coinciding emotions of loss amongst those not even as lovely, I finally feel this pain heartily.
One bad decision, one bad night, one terrible choice is the only ignition that was needed to begin the arson.
My apology was weak and imitated the sincerity of a disgruntled garçon, still in disbelief that my train of thought was easily that of a *****.
Love is a fickle sport we play and the secret formula is still out of my reach.
I will metamorphize into the one who is cracking the glass towards the anticipatory breach.
A lesson you subconsciously teach and I see that not all past stains can be cleaned with even the most powerful bleach.
I now know how I hurt you with my actions and eternal contract breach, like Richard Nixon I deserve the death penalty charge of being impeached, making you now just out of reach.
All I can say is sorry for all I have done, I love you, but I guess it's just a figure of speech.