Chills run down my arms
and I wonder,
what if it had been you?
My legs are swept from under
by all these regrets,
and my heart caves in
upon itself.
I visit that old shelf
where dust covers heaps of glass,
and I mourn for what
has come to pass.
Why was it him, and not you?
All of your pieces are colored blue.
Colored blue as I am, too.
But his pieces are colored as dark
as his eyes-
dark enough to have hid
his lies.
What did I do to deserve him?
What did you do to deserve
that way I treated you?
I feel now I am paying reparations,
hearing of your inspirations
for which I am the cause.
I walk through time to take a pause
and see all my wrong-doings,
all of my miscontruings,
and my heart breaks in two.
Why didn't you get to me first?
I fear I've yet to serve the worst
of my sentence,
for no amount of repentance
could mend what I have done.
And now I feel
history is repeating,
and in among its seating
is another mistake.
I wish I'd been awake
instead of sleepwalking
through life.
I wish I'd been kind
instead of stumbling
around blind
and hurt.
Cruelty breeds cruelty,
as they say.
I just wish I hadn't
pushed you away.
Maybe then your glass would be
Vermillion.
