by Richard Vince
The time has come to write the letter
I should have written four years ago,
Instead of the rambling rant I flung
Mercilessly at you, verbal vomit
Sharpened by subconscious bile into
A blade that could pierce your heart.
Now, the truth of our friendship is
Dwarfed by the truth of my
Selfishness, of my emotional fuckwittery,
And by the guilt I feel for
The guilt I made you feel. Of all
The things I have done to people
I claimed to love, instilling self hatred
Must be the cruellest.
At last I see that, as meaningless as
That is four years late. Even the tired
Defence of not thinking before I spoke
Cannot get me out of jail: I thought
For days, weeks, months, and then
Chose my terrible words.
I do not deserve to apologise
Just as I did not deserve to grieve.
Like everything I write, this is actually
About me. Do not read this:
Stay as far away from me as you have
Chosen to be, live your life that is
Better for my absence, keep your happiness
Safe from all I hope you forget.
I will remember for both of us:
Songs of similar childhoods, the sofa
On which I never sat, the words you chose
To share only with me, the city I never
Saw in daylight, the countryside I never
Saw at all. I will remember so
You don’t have to.
As you say, being nice is underrated,
So for once in my life I will be
Genuinely nice and leave you alone.
Posted on 05/20/2017
Copyright © 2020 Richard Vince
|Member Comments on this Poem|
|Posted by Philip F De Pinto on 05/22/17 at 02:27 PM|
quite the fine and soul searching poem.
|Posted by Kris Mara on 06/08/17 at 05:39 PM|
...yes, soul searching and heartbreaking...brings up thoughts of all the things we wish we'd been...wish we could take back...do over...but can't...so well said...