You have become completely two dimensional You live in photographs and in the shadows In the rings left by a finished cup of tea You're face is dripping with nostalgia and regret And it's not your own We were both bleeding I couldn't kiss you better I couldn't stitch up your hand, I couldn't even hold it I was terrified Now you live in old journal posts And those few pictures I can't bring myself to delete I can't shake you
I'm sorry. Those words feel astronomically small today.
Inspired by Rusty Clanton's One More Cup of Coffee (particularly the line, "And it isn't in the leaving/It's in the way they don't look back."), as well as a decision I'll never know whether or not to regret. But I know that it hurt someone, because words are like atomic bombs, leaving us burnt and disfigured. Sometimes we become super heros, but usually, we end up just a little more broken. If you're reading this, I want you to know that I look back all the time. You didn't just disappear to me. You left an impression. https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=osCh6-yz-M8