Regret becomes me.
I look at your photos, online galleries.
dailybooth, facebook.
what will you join next I wonder?
I feel creepy. Sick. Something is wrong with me.
I feel like a stalker, white van, tying girls up and wiping their tears.
I'm not though.
I miss you. You hurt me.
You hurt me.
So much...
I can't forgive you
but that doesn't mean I don't miss you.
I was there when you needed me, or so I thought.
And when I needed you... Where did you go?
I made a mistake, and my world fell apart.
So here I am,
twenty past three
watching downloaded films
half drunk on bad beer
on a floral print couch
and writing bad poetry.
I've lost weight,
I stopped eating meat
I don't sleep anymore
I erased you from my internet connections
I tore the pages from my journal
all the things I wrote about you
all the things you wrote for me
I burned.
I'll edit this a thousand times
stop capitalizing
add lines
delete more
lose my mind
hate my work
hate myself
but you won't ever talk to me anymore.
which is mostly my fault
I'm sure
I'm sorry.