I'm sorry
that things
didn't work out
the way that
we wanted them to;
I can't be the things
that you want me to.
I'm not going
to change who I am.
Not for any man,
least of all you.
You and I
are so disparate.
I guess you
were just desperate
for someone
to call your own,
even if I didn't
fit the mold.
You say
I didn't try
hard enough,
that the effort
wasn't there.
It's not that
I didn't care,
it's not that
I wasn't falling too;
I fell, and instead of
catching me,
I collided
with you.
YOU ARE READING
Habits of the Heart
Poetry𝓜y words are the equivalent of a rose petal spiraling down the Grand Canyon, and you are it's echo.
