I'm sorry though.

I told myself I wasn't gonna to do it again.

I'd done it what seems like a thousand times.

It was some fucked up shit.

But this wasn't gonna 

happen again.

I was wrong so now I'm in the hot seat.

I can see the disappointment in his eyes when he turns to me.

His eyes flick in my direction.

Then when I look in the mirror

I see in my eyes

his eyes

cold and distant like a thin birch tree buried under snow ready to 

snap.

He said he loved me.

I said I loved him.

Can love repair broken bridges? 

No

that's some romantic shit my mind wants to play to feel less sorry for myself.

I'm sorry though.

I am sorry.

This poem is about: 
Our world

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