Forgiveness

This is not a love poem.
I found you years ago,
Though it seems sometimes like yesterday.
I was instantaneously drawn to you,
Like a flies to rotting fruit.
You were broken and I knew I could fix you.
I could duct tape your broken wings and help you fly
Straight into the sun.
But you were no Icarus,
And my last name never has been Wright.
You were Henry Miller
And I could have been
Aniäs Nin.
But I was bound hand and foot to another.
That never stopped us.
We drank cheap beer together,
And reminisced about the old days when we were young
Before we knew the other existed.
It didn't matter that night,
We were too drunk
Or too high
To notice.
We played poker with body language.
You'd bet with a look
And I raised you a touch,
And before we knew it, we were going to your room.
But this isn't a love poem.
"Jess, I know I don't have much and you have a son, but I have a plan,"
Shut up and kiss me.
I wasn't interested in plans or what you had,
I was selfish.
I was bored with what I had and you, You were shiny and new and beautiful.
You made love to me three times that night,
I fucked you three times that night.
It was a full moon,
And I was hungrier than a starved wolf.
You held me all through the night.
You brought me coffee and cigarettes in the morning,
I thought you were just being a gentleman,
You actually were taking care of me.
I was a master manipulator,
A master of secrets,
A master of the dark.
And you were trying to feel something, anything, but the hole left in your heart.
This is not a love poem.
My life as I knew it,
The life I had carefully put together,
The life I shared with him,
Crumbled two days later.
For as Much as I have tried,
I have never been a good liar.
You were there,
But I shunned you almost as if it was your fault.
This is not a love poem.
It took me two years after our night together,
To finally figure it all out.
You've found someone new now,
So have I.
And we have talked since,
And I apologized,
But I don't think you ever heard me.
You told me not to worry about it,
You told me that you were thankful.
You told me you were fine,
I believed you,
Because you were all of those things.
I figured it all out, two years later.
I self sabotage.
I think I don't deserve things,
Good things,
Good people,
Goodness.
I had all of those things,
And I took all of those things away from myself.
You were an innocent bystander,
Not a catalyst.
You are good and right and selfless.
I see it in you every time we bump into each other.
You were never wrong for what we did.
I took you away from me, too, that weekend.
I lost out on you,
And not in the romantic way.
I damaged things,
Burnt bridges,
Broke bonds.
I see that now.
And for the record, I learned my lesson and forgave myself
For the record,
I am sorry.
This is not a love poem.
This is an apology.