we cried blood that night you almost pulled the trigger almost , as if the bullet was eager to kiss your lovely head we locked eyes and everything went dark who kissed the bullet ? it's a mystery we don't want unfolding
"What happened to stolen glances, shaky hands, and nervous laughter?
What the hell happened to interlocked fingers, fierce kisses, and carefree smiles?
What in the world happened to Sunday strolls in the park, and whispers of sweet nothings on a rainy day?"
- "Exactly. They were sweet nothings. No purpose, you see. Those things may have meant the world to you, but they were but another task in the day for me. I’m sorry if that hurts you."
- "It does. But I can’t imagine you’re truly sorry."
- "You’re right. I’m not sorry for wanting you in my life. For being selfish and keeping you for myself. I’m sorry I wasn’t good for you, but you were the best **** thing I could ever have. You deserved better, and I deserved nothing. But I’m selfish, you see. I may not have deserved you, but I thought for just a moment, when we first met, that maybe I could make it work. I was wrong. Terribly wrong. And I’m sorry for that. But I will never be sorry for having wanted to love you and for you to love me."
Does this ever happen to you? You get into a messy, ugly fight, but you lose steam about half way through when you realize you’re the one who’s wrong. Now, you want to stop arguing; you really do. But for some idiotic ineffable reason your mouth won’t do what your brain tells it to. So you keep spouting nonsense with all your might and continue to quarrel without a clue.