This isn't a letter of bitter regret 

This isn't a letter I thought I would send

 

But sitting here now, after it all

Feeling unwanted, feeling so small,

 

I know it's cliché, a teen heart being broken 

But clichés— of all things— provide a good token

 

Of a youthful love lost, that makes its own way

To memories I feel were only just...yesterday...

                               

                                      ......

 

Standing there, in my dress, that my tears hadn’t stained

I had vowed to myself that’d be the last time it rained

 

I thought back to the warmth of the days we had shared

To the sun that gleamed through every window I stared

 

Simple thoughts had consumed me but simply you broke me

Those days weren’t ours; they were mine and mine only

—mine and mine only to chase.

 

For what I saw was an “us” and the seed of “one day”

But you chose to plant seeds in more gardens than May

 

I had to cross out my feelings and scratch out my prose

I didn’t hear through your thorns, but still threw out your rose

 

No idea have you now of my thunder, my rain

I wore black the next day to seduce my own gain—

I had “actress” all over my face.

 

You had given me light, the cliché, the whole stage

But you kept up the curtain, and flipped the wrong page

 

And so I stood there so tall—my reflection, my dress—

In my hurt and my beauty, I withdrew my “yes”

 

For I didn’t notice your show till it pierced both my ears

For a girl that you chose to parade on my tears—

It was then that you broke through the vase.

 

You won’t ever know of the ending I craved

And you’ll never guess of how strong I was, braved

 

To say “no” to the boy who’s rose bloomed so red

To forgive the same boy whose words were well said

 

But trust me, that night—stainless white as it would be

Could never compare to my power through ugly—

Through myself, my strength never chaste.

 

I know simpled times were carried through in our youth

But back then I had known, oh ahead of my truth

 

I was stained on the heart, but my dress made it through

And this wasn’t “our” show, it was mine, featured you

 

It was my story to start with, and you sure missed out

On the girl in the white dress, the sun in her mouth—

A mouth that you’ll never taste....

 

So I'll tell you now, 

Thank you for the lesson

Of love and self-worth

Through all your transgressions,

I know that I'll be okay. 

 

And it surely is, love's favorite cliché

But after your storm, I know I'll see sun

I have moved on— let it be what it may, 

But you, my dear, you are the one...

 

You are the one who missed out. 

I—

The one who got away. 

 

 

Never yours, 

Laura