Woe (Regret is My Heart’s Euphemism)

They hurt,
these memories
– when I told you
I didn’t care for you,
when I tossed you aside,
and lied to you.

I hate myself for
these memories –
when I gave up on you.
When I left you.
You, the boy whom first
held me that day
as I,
no more than a stranger, really,
cried.

Does it matter that I was trapped
in blue ruin?
Heart afraid.
Does it matter that there was
this pull to you –
afraid of what I would become
without you?

And you won’t forgive me
because you can’t.
The one time, I let you down
– when I promised that I never would;
and you can’t forget it,
because you won’t.
You will always remember
that which I’ve done.

And I’m sorry.
I mean it, with all of my heart
– I am sorry,
with all that I am
– so sorry, for giving you
those moments of doubt
where within your heart
you questioned me,
and doubted each moment we’d shared.

It hurts, every day,
the fear of losing you,
and regret, it cripples me
for Regret, is my euphemism.

And I’m afraid,
because I love your heart
and all that it stands for

– it will never forgive me.

Copyright of Marie Meyers, 2014. All rights reserved.

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