To Somebody I Used To Know

Sorry.

I'm sorry.

I fucked up, I know.

It doesnt mean anything now

but if somehow it means something,

I only meant well.

 

I only wanted to feel what it was like

to breathe for something, someone other than me,

to remember something other than

what was dead,

to want to feel happy again

and smile again and

love again,

to find something

that wanted to be found,

to remember what it was like

to not be afraid of

who casted my shadow.

 

how do we get better?

what have i done to you?

what have we done to each other?

 

sorry.

I'm sorry.

I only wanted to love someone

who would love someone

like me.

and I guess no one could ever

love someone

like me.

 

But

how do you do it?

How do people do it?

How do they breathe again?

How do they regret loving

and love again?

 

How do people love other people,

and yet after a while,

pretend like nothing ignited?

 

Pretend like there is no

sun, no gasoline,

no source?

 

How do they forget the fire,

the ashes,

the rubble?

 

 

This poem is about: 
Me

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