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You must know I still think about you
I know you think you hate me and think
I should take the blame on my small shoulders.
But it just doesn’t sit right. The blame isn’t
Used to my narrow shoulder blades.
It can’t find a niche. You don’t seem to understand
My body isn’t made to take your shallow words
And growing guilt.
My frame is like a dancers and I’ve danced around
Your steady blows for too long.
I never let myself feel grief for you,
For the death of our relationship.
But the ending was mine.
Once the blame slipped the rest of
The way off.
I left it sitting in a pile,
Deserted. and
I walked away.