I would like to say that I had no
choice,
that my feet carried themselves away-
snuck out and led me crawling through
dark spaces, but it was never like
that.
I am something vague and disconcerting.
The walking shambles of a fragmented
person
who forgot how to be whole. Through
sorry
tears I cried selfishly- for more
chances.
More- I needed more.
Then I asked for demons and matted
lashes,
I asked for a coward, I asked for a
reason
to be sore. I upped my own prices,
asked
for extra things to carry, so I
wouldn’t feel
the fault in my own scars.
All the while I was aware. Aware that I
was
the filler of party cups, bottles, ash
trays,
garbage cans, and battered notebooks-
the filler of no where bound gas tanks
everywhere. I was the nostalgia that
struck
the moment a cricket
chirped.
But I didn’t say a word
as all the hills passed,
rolling with the speed,
inviting me in, saying
it was okay to hide-
I didn’t say a word as it
all broke my heart,
and I realized that in
some far off place
I was completely
horrible.
I didn’t say it, but I
should have said it-
I was a coward. I was
selfish. I was manipulative.
I was a liar. I was two
faced and
vain to the point of
delusion.
I was pathetic and I was
desperate. I was wrong.
I wanted to say:
I’m sorry, I should have been better
for you.
