Poetry, if even

Too late. 24APR17

You are. You might not realize it, but you are, and you'll still never know how I feel. I feel like you were waiting for me on the train, but I missed it. You tell me not to blame myself for what happened, but how is this not my fault? I missed it and you just kept going; there's nothing else to that story, it ended as quickly as it started. I live in the moment, you live in the future; everyone's different and once they're gone, there's no returning. I was too late, too late to realize what was happening and going on before my world fell again. I'm not blaming you for the destruction of my world, but I think you just helped push it off the edge of the cliff into oblivion, where I am lost, never to be found. I was too late to save myself, I was too late to save my soul. Like paper in a shredder, my soul is ripping; I thought maybe, just maybe, you could put me back together, but all you've done is made it worse. I feel as alone as ever now. It's my fault, you were on time, but I was too late. I'm sorry. I'll probably think of what could've been, instead of facing the cold truth. I don't know why I keep doing this to myself, falling for a guy that's way out of my league, then them breaking me down, it's horrible, it's so painful, I just wish it would end. Maybe it's not too late to save myself from me, but I may never find out.