I see her everywhere. In
my soup, hiding beneath
the spoon. In the TV, with
the actress who looks like
her. In my dreams, in
district 13 with a swapped
nationality. I got so scared in
my dream; you were touching
my shoulder and I wondered if
you remembered my texts but
you'd chosen to forgive.

Sometimes I want to send
her a message saying how
I'm sorry for everything I've
caused her and how, clichéd or
not, it's not her, not you,
but me who ruined it.

Do you dream of a life with
me? In those 4 and 1/2 years,
I'd never even seen you before,
but was I the subject of your
fantasies, unbeknownst to me?
Maybe I've caused you pain,
but I could not see a future with
you, just as I was blind to a
past with you. Ignorant.
I can't help but think
I've caused some eternal death
of your love, but at least you
had the guts to talk to me.
I wouldn't have, but, then again,
I didn't notice you. I didn't like you.
At all. Never.

So, to conclude the eulogy for
our chimeric heart, it was not you, but
me that had to ruin something
for the hopes of a peaceful future.
I'd I hadn't, where would I
be now? Six feet deep, I hope.
But then you'd think it's your fault
and I can't let you win like that.