one forward, two backMature

I string my words together
with a vague idea of what
I'm always trying to say
& what once came so easily
comes, if at all, a step below
awkward & clumsy.
& some days you make me
regret I ever wrote a word about you;
go ahead & make me regret
everything I swore to you.
I could take it all back,
throw my suitcase in the car,
but I'm not you.

No, I'm not you.

The End

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