The three poems I have made private here are all about you.
It seems like everything about my opinion of you is some kind of private matter.
I still care about you.
I think you're amazing.
Maybe I still love you.
But not in the same way I used to.
I'm sorry I'm not worth all that much nowadays.
I just wanted you to know that I'm going into therapy soon.
You said I needed to "sort myself out".
I've been through a lot of things that shouldn't have happened to good people like us.
Or maybe I was never that good person.
Who am I kidding?
You're not reading this.
Last time you did, things went wrong and now all those poems are private.
I can't even muster up any courage to say "hi" in any situation.
So I won't.
Makes things easier.
Sorry I didn't try harder.
Sorry I wasn't there.
Sorry I called you late at night.
Sorry I still remember the circus.
Sorry I still want to send you gifts for your birthday and Christmas.
Sorry I didn't say anything the right way or even at the right time.
Anyways... talk later?
Or never I guess.
You'll be busy.
And I have a therapy session to go to.
I'm still in my car after the school day ends and I cry again.
It's non stop.
And I have to wait, for my brother to show up and then I can drive him home.
And not long after I start crying, he shows up.
He gets in the car and sees me in my guilt ridden, sad, apologetic state. All wrapped up in my pain.
And he tells me, "You should know that I love you."
My introverted brother, who rarely shows any affection towards any of our family, reached out to me in my time of need.
And God couldn't have given me a better little brother.
Despite all I've done and all the pain I've caused...
He could still say that.
And I drive us both home. Still crying, but definitely feeling a sense of hope again.
I still act as his role model most of the time.
And he listens to me.
And for a guy who doesn't talk much...
Listening is the thing he does best.
In a time of crisis, it was the introvert who finally spoke some truth.
— The End —