Thinking about it now, I’m not the least bit
sorry for the hateful shit I’d said to you
eleventy years ago, when I was a kid
and you fucking knew better.
I rescind my apologies.
Not that my sorries ever meant a good
goddamn to you, anyway—
they were ever only as true as your own,
Insincerity: a common factor.
No, that’s not true…the truth is complex.
I wish I hadn’t apologized so much for defending myself
And I wish you hadn’t rolled over so easily whenever
I called you out. I wish you’d properly raged against
the reasons you were the way you were. Sure,
you’d spoken of the ghosts that breathed inside of you—
warned me of them—but never did you
exorcise them. Never did you make them scream in terror.
Not that your armor went unused. You’d fought your best all your life…
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