Right now, how should I feel? Dragging from the depths what I believed to be buried and "done."
When you left, I had no regrets. I was very careful to never have one...was it for the sake that I could say I didn't? Well, it doesn't matter, now that you picked your footsteps back up, back through the doorway. Spilling your blood and guts out of your mouth, out for display, displayed for me. It's touching, I promise. Even if it wasn't for me, even if it was just so you could hear the word "love."
This is not a poem or any form of intended lyrical genius. It's simply something from me to you. Because we both know how badly I converse through anything but writing, really. I suppose the critical side of me is arguing that I shouldn't have to struggle to have you understand me, that even my unsuccessful attempts to get my point across should be understandable to you...but I digress....
You have returned and taken back your goodbye, and I have a near irrevocable cavity making cracks in my heart and you know I can no longer say "I have no regrets." So forgive me, my perpetual "romeo", a glutton for punishment...just as I am.
What am I failing to see? Why is any sense of foresight I may have possessed feel the need to jump out the window? I don't....know how to successfully revive the emotions that I buried (of course) when i heard "i'm done." Yeah, I know; whatever.
