I’m-- sorry… I’m sorry I couldn’t love you how you wanted me to.
They say you won’t ever realize what you have until you lose it. Gone and done out of your life like you never existed. And it hurts to see that tragedy come into play but maybe that’s– maybe that’s what we needed if it’s up to me to say. Our love sure could’ve been of roses and daisies. I always pictured it as peaceful as the sounds of doves singing me awake on a sunny summer day. Something sweet… like fresh caribbean sugarcane at the dawn of July is what it was supposed to display. But quite honestly, I could see we didn’t stand a chance.. Our love wouldn’t bear the slightest blow of the wind and when it howls that’s a guaranteed disaster.
I’m sorry for being too pessimistic but I’ve been here before. I know how it all ends and I refuse to be the one digging myself out of the hole this time.
“What do you mean?” You looked… startled. Like kids do after they break something they’ve been told not to touch. Like the shock of the unexpected when it hits you on a good day. Like I did when I realized nobody really cares about my story. It’s amusing.
“Don’t worry. It’s made me strong-- it’ll only help you heal. Bring you to the right path. Teach you some fucking sympathy. Teach you how not to play with others like he did me.”
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