From a letter I wish I sent

You need to know you deserve me,
And I’ve always desired you.



Sorry not sorry

I’m sorry.

For showing the world how much you mean to me, instead of keeping it to myself. I’ve been writing prose poems about you instead of burying myself under the letters and figures of speech about how much I love you.

You didn’t ask for this, and I didn’t ask for permission.

I’m the one unrequitedly in love with a muse I can’t have but I can’t stop because this is the only way I know how to express how I feel. I am hiding behind words and phrases when I should come on out but I can’t do that because it would be selfish of me.

For you, I felt too many emotions and wrote too many things. But you can’t fault me for any of these things or falling hard for you.

You made me want you, you pulled back and left me wanting more.

Now I’ve turned our memories into memoirs. A collation of us is now in existence, I never want to forget! Not one moment. I want it written in paper, on the web, in the stars, forever encrypted in my heart. All the things we said and wanted, I want to keep them all.

Have you ever felt love so intense? You probably have but I haven’t. It’s all overwhelming for me. I’m sorry for writing all of these things about you. It’s the only way I know how to let it all out, I had to do it. I was left with no other choice.

But this is me apologizing for turning you into a muse. And not being upfront about how I still feel about you.

I want to write about love and heartbreak that’s got nothing to do with me and you, but I can’t seem to find the words that don’t sound like you and I.

Without you to make me one, I’m stuck the poet and never the muse myself. I’m sorry for making you my muse and I want to say I’m sorry for loving you but I can’t, cause I’m not.