That Night of Broken Bottles

I want to sit where you once sat
that night when you winked at me
and made me feel like
I can hold unto the feelings
long repressed within me.
That seat,
right in front of mine
is no longer a seat, but
a place where a piece of my memory
now resides;
for that seat, that night,
those winks and the assumption
are now killing me —
Killing me because I loved you more
the moment you apologized
for being oblivious of my flourishing affection;
loved you more when you made me cry
and wiped the tears away
with hands I long to fit with my own;
loved you more when
you hated that part in you
for being guilty of tearing me apart;
It pains me to hear your apology
perhaps I’m waiting for a different answer
but I loved you more
when it’s time for me to stop,
I guess I can do best in silence,
loving you. Loving you.



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