poetry.

a confession of an almost lover

I broke him. 

I crushed his beating heart in my numb hands and he cried.

I frantically try to pick up the shattered pieces in my clumsy, bleeding hands, crying as the pieces slip through my fingers while he smiles at me with tears in his eyes.

I swore not to.

I swore I would never take him apart like everyone else has, I promised him I would love him and caress his broken soul and hug his so tight all his broken pieces would stick together again. I gave him my word that I wouldn't break him. This was my one job. I was to protect and love him.

 And now I've broken him like I swore I never would. 

He smiles a broken smile, his brown honey eyes glistening as tears bubble at his waterline, spilling over the edge he was standing on. He says he loves me, that I'm more important than him, that this was good because I was free. 

I'm not free. 

I am shackled by guilt, by self hatred, bound tightly with remorse and sorrow. His tears break me, his cracking smile shatters me, and I forgot what it felt like to be happy. 

I'm sorry. 

I'm so sorry. 

I'm sorry for letting you fall and never catching you. 

I'm sorry for kicking you when you were down and thinking only of myself. 

I'm sorry for treating you like shit, just like everyone else has. 

I'm sorry that I made you think I could love you as fiercely as you love me. 

I'm sorry I wasn't what you deserved. 

I'm sorry. 

I'm sorry. 

I'm sorry.