The last thing I remember writing
With this typewriter was
The beginning of a letter
To someone I no longer know.

Seeing it always reminds me of
Why it was never finished, and
Of why I have, semi consciously,
Ensured that I will never forget her.

Perhaps I do it to aid myself
In learning from my mistakes,
Though it's never helped before...
Or perhaps I just enjoy guilt,
Especially when I actually have
Something to be guilty of.
Though now I think about it,
I'm not sure I did anything wrong.

In fact, with hindsight,
Maybe I should feel a bit
Hard done by, since I did
Exactly what I was supposed to do,
And she did the opposite.

This realisation comes as
A bit of a shock, since
I now have nothing to feel
Guilty about after all...
Or do I?

I did deceive her, though
Only through deceit of myself.
And that is something I can
Feel guilt for, because I should have
Learned from all the hearts
I tore with the same knife.

Perhaps she will be the last to
Be torn, or maybe this is
Only the beginning.

01/27/2003

Posted on 02/01/2003
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