It’s rather peculiar.

I feel this need to apologize for all I’ve said, for my behavior.

Maybe it’s the Midwest in me, but I’m sorry I said you’re gorgeous.

It was a brazen statement blurted from my Tourette ridden heart.

I never meant to bombard you with my torrential musings, never meant to draw and quarter you with my words and your past each claiming a limb.

I’m sorry I made you imagine love as a different color and spear a ray of sun through the thunderstorm covering your mind.

Forgive my heart’s impatience and lack of functioning ears.

I will Feel free to forget what I you must to survive.

I will PhotoShop conversations to silences and smiles to backs of heads.

I will Kill the little bastard that kicks my your heart against my your ribs whenever I you see your my face.

Return my texts with a shotgun full of blanks.

I get it, things can’t ever be the same.


Photo by Sharon McCutcheon on Unsplash

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