you were my entire world,
and while i accept blame and responsibility
for making a universe out of a mere mortal,
that doesn’t change the fact that
the sky suddenly seemed empty
when you left.
the stars shone a bit dimmer,
the light in my eyes went out.

eventually other people came along.
they carried torches and used their flames
to rekindle the ones i had lost.
the stars started glowing again.

i learned how to remove you.
dug you out from under my skin,
erased you from my brain.
you became mere mortal, once more.

and i was okay.
and then you came along again,
telling me you were sorry.

i don’t want an “i’m sorry”
i want you to tell me you miss me
i want you to tell me there’s a hole shaped like me
somewhere in your heart,
and you want me to fill it again.

i want you to tell me i changed you,
that you also can’t listen to
the songs that we used to sing to each other,
have memorized by heart,
because that would mean having to acknowledge me,
remember what we had,
and that would hurt too much.

i want you to ask if you cross my mind,
because i cross yours all the time, and it’s as if
a piece of me has been etched into your brain and ears and eyes,
so that no matter what,
there are certain things that you can’t
watch or read or hear
without thinking of me.

tell me you love me.

because no matter how far away i try to throw you,
you always seem to find your way back to me,
back under my skin,
back into my heart.

i haven’t stopped loving you.
i don’t know how to.

but i want to.
so save your i’m sorry’s,
save your nostalgia and frustration and sadness
for the next girl whose heart you break.

there’s no room for it here.