The last time you whine how walking down wind of that guy, who was wearing whatever the hell was his smell, made you want to curl up and die.
The first time you’ll write you should’ve stayed, instead of getting stuck in games you never should’ve played, instead of making decisions in the darkest waste to put thoughts in the farthest place.
If you’d stuck around, you might’ve been better, you could’ve made them so proud – and that’s the last time you’ll say it out loud.
The last time you’ll say you’re in the wrong place – all that should’ve been now could’ve been and so much time gone to waste.
The last time you’ll regret that which you see as a set back, the last time it’s just confidence you lack.
The last time you long to let him see how you’ve changed, from experience he helped you gain.
It’s the last time you’re going to apologise for every time you lied, everything that you chose, those open nights you cried – every time your mouth stayed closed. The way you see him in spiral throes and cutting tomatoes, you’ll say what they already know and mumble something about letting go. The last time you’ll muse how no one moved like him, the only one who became anything.
The last time from this stand you’ll fall and outwardly consider ending it all – you’re fully-grown and experience shows you’re better off alone. Sit up on your throne and pretend you know where to go.
The last time you’ll say you wish it didn’t end up this way, but you played with his heart and friendship doesn’t stretch that far.
That you never shoulda listened to anyone else.
That you shoulda just focused on how it felt.