I’m sorry for what I did to you.
I’m sorry I took the pictures of all the times I was hurt
All the polaroids of me face down in puddles
And poorly developed 1990’s photography of me crying my eyes out in the backyard with my stretchy leopard print pants
And the digital records of that girl who tricked me into believing in things I’d given up in the first grade.
I took them and I crushed them into paste.
Mixing fine photographic dust
With the tears of an 8 year old and the spit of a three year old and the drinks that as a 21 year old I drowned myself in
And I pasted it against your chest.
I painted you with the paint of all the mixed up shit I did.
And I screamed your name as if I could replace everyone who ever hurt me
with it, your name.
That’s all I needed to get over.
Just one crappy relationship thrown in a blender mixed till a fine dust and set out on the December winds of yester year.
No, you didn’t deserve that.
You deserved a little flack
Maybe a few harsh words
But you didn’t deserve me pinning all of the epic failures in this life of mine to your back like a roadmap to hell.
So I’d like to say I’m sorry.
Let me peel this paste from your bones
Removing all the photographic fairy dust I used to turn you into an ogre.
You never deserved any of that.
And you know what?
Neither did I.