i am sorry that when you're sad i am not one of the people who tells you you're beautiful or showers you with compliments as if me saying you're great is like magic, as if me telling you I think you're priceless is a fucking miracle, and it will wash away all of the doubts you have about yourself and you will glow with joy because fuck wait, no, hell all you need is me and my approval right. but i know that's what you want from me, you want me to call you pretty like the guys in high school you craved so much or the girls drowning in jealousy to be you and look like you and talk like you and walk like you because that quarterback considered you fucking material instead of them. i am sorry that when i look at you your looks are of the least of my worries. i am sorry that i make art about you. i am sorry that i see museums in you where you see empty hallways. i am sorry i adore your soul and the way you talk about the things you love. i am sorry that you want someone to tell you your body is sexy but i think your mind is more important. i am sorry that hearing your laugh means so much more to me than what you wear to dinner. i am sorry that i cherish your entire being when you just wanted a fuck buddy. sex without attachment. i am sorry that i love you. i know love wasn't what you wanted. you want orgasms but i wanted you and fuck i mean no that's not the right context i mean goddamn i am sorry i love the way you say my name like it's a song you've known your entire life and i am sorry that simple minded removing of clothes is not what i want from you. you you you. you are what I want and you are what I think about all the time and it's constantly you you you but I don't want you to turn into my past I don't want you to turn into a sort of drug to me that I injected into my bloodstream and now i can't get away from it, I want you to be something different, I want you to be my morning coffee, or my softest blanket, or reading my favorite poetry in winter, I want you to be something I love that helps me, that makes me feel warm inside, that makes me feel safe and peaceful and okay, I want you to be a part of me in a way that my past never was, i want you to be my home. but you don't want to be my home, no, you want me to be a rest stop or should i say a fuck stop on the way to finding yours, your home, your home is not me and fuck i mean no shit it hurts that you're mine. you're mine but you're not mine. and fuck i mean no. no. no you. no me. no us. no anything. no. there's no decor covering the walls of our home because the home was never ours. there was you and there was me, but there was never an in between. and fuck i mean. fuck I'm sorry.
