I'm sorry that I will find myself more in broken skin and ****** blades than I will ever find myself in another human being
I'm sorry that the bottom of the bottle holds every type of emotional bond I've ever felt with another soul
I'm sorry that "I love you" is never enough because my hands will never only pull your skin in closer and my hands will never only write about your breath taking, infatuating kiss
I'm sorry. I'm truly, inconveniently sorry.
But I will fall asleep with the smell of your hair wrapped up in my lungs only to be awaken by the choking I feel without you next to me
And I will spread my torn up broken pieces all over your bed sheets while you rub my head mumbling I love you's like you're talking to an incoherent second grader because what is love if you are never going to be loved back