When I tried to write you into a poem, I found that I already had, you snuck into the crevices of my smile, you spent your spare time mining your way into my heart and now that the bomb we planted there has gone off I’m no closer to finding closure than I was three weeks ago and I guess that just goes to show that when push comes to shove I’d rather pull then become a push over, I’m not even close to being over you, and the next morning once I had a sober view on things I realized you had done the right thing in letting me go, so now I’m letting you know. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Because I let you win, Because I let you in, Because I let my sin control my actions.
I’m sorry
Because of the impact of my folly
Because of the way you tried to stop me
Because of the choices I made
And the decision to stay
I’m sorry
Because I want to be your friend because I rendered myself weaker than I am because I tried to be someone I’m not because I’m too frightened to let this end because I’m bitter without a soul to defend because I lied and tried to get closer to you because I put my needs above yours, I’m making batman references to my friend I said you’re the boyfriend I deserve but not the one I need right now, so I’ll let you go because I can take it but I’m not sure I can make it up to you
I’m sorry.
Because you sank into my skin when I met you, placed your hand over my heart and dug deeper.
Now you're in my bones.
taking up space between my rusty joints
and splintered cartridge.
I could take a scalpel
and cut you out, bleed you out like bad
humors.
if you've rested between my porcelain femurs
does that make you part of me?
Or a tumor.
I’m sorry
Because I had to have my way
I mean what else can I say?
I’m sorry.
Now this is the part of the poem where you interject, where you tell me that maybe we were each other’s biggest mistakes but at least we were living and together and at least the beast inside of us were shared by each other and at least things never got as bad as they could have.
Here is where you tell me that the key is hidden under the mat, and that if the doors are ever locked all I need to do is knock, here is where you chase the nervous anxiety I have away with a reassuring hug, but you won’t do that will you? You’re done with my chapter in your life, you’ve switched the stitching and you’ve stopped mixing business with pleasure and I’m not needed anymore, so let me change the title of this poem to something with a little bit more of a ring to it, so I can sing it to you until you can’t block it out.
I’m sorry, sorry that I trusted you, sorry that I thought you were different, that I thought you were a bigger person, I’m sorry that I assumed you respected me while you degraded my state of mind, I’m sorry that I thought that you were actually kind. That you wanted a piece of my mind and not just my body. I’m sorry I thought we could be friends.
The poems I wrote for you have scribbled out your name, the cracks in my heart a mortared so I can continue beating this point home, and I’m not alone. So don’t feel sorry for me, don’t be that guy who made my cry and then tries to get back inside. It’s not happening.
I’ve burnt the bridges between us, and in the end. The crevices of my smile hide only my own happiness, I am focusing on myself and the strength within my own mind, so go find someone else to tidy your mess. You can keep your fox hole, I’m happy being faithless.
Part two of "It takes two to tango."