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I trespassed through many lives,
some of them mine,
yours most of all.

Being young
does not excuse,
only shows how long
I've known better.

I thought breaking
was just another way
to change shape.
I mistook leaving
for becoming.

You stayed.
You learned to sleep
on a wet pillow.
I know.
I brought the storm
and called it weather.

You wake.
You endure.
You build a life
where I am a name,
a story you no longer tell.

You rise
like someone who had to.
I vanish,
like someone who chose to.

I see it.
Even now.

And I wonder
what it cost you
to stay kind
to the memory
of me.
AJ Feb 2016
You pitiable
Fool.
What niaviety,
What simple ineptitude,
What casual disregard,
What blind optimism,
What egotistical faith,
To tempt the universe to stop you.

— The End —