I’m sorry for being the cliffhanger in your story line- essential, yet disappointing.
For being the sugar cube at the bottom of your bitter tea, noticed too late.
I’m sorry for the excuse I am to your apology; the story of your scar- interesting, but not worthwhile.
For the life and love I’ve seen you dust off your shoulder that I’ve watched but wasn’t fast enough to catch.
For all the times when we still thought promises last forever, that broken hearts could heal and we believed storytellers were the best anyone could ever be.
I’m sorry for each star that you wished upon. I told you that there was no height you couldn’t reach, but stars are balls of fire that burn you down.  I’m sorry I never told you I was one too.


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