A Winter Apology

Dear Odette, 

I refuse to make this yet another story of love,

But my thoughts are all over the place.

Everyone has heard enough of my thoughts, my odes, my sonnets, my plight.

This, is an apology to the way love fades, disappears,

Maybe because the world ruined happiness for me,

Or maybe because I got so used to making excuses for my love.

Love that didn’t love,

Love that wasn’t love,

Love that didn’t know how to.

If I just knew how to love…me.

Maybe I wouldn’t ruin happiness for me.

I wouldn’t have to make excuses for me.

This is an apology- an apology for love letters I never meant.

And love letters for apologies I never sent.

This is me saying sorry for not believing you hold true to your name.

You’re not just a painting; you’re a work of art.

This is me saying sorry for not seeing every inch of you is a myriad of colours- shades of lilac painted across a perfectly calm storm.

This is me saying sorry for robbing your eyes of their Starry Night and your voice of its symphonies.

I’m sorry for only making poetry of your words when they were ones of sorrow.

I’m sorry for reasoning with the spilled ink of self loathing- words dipped in grey faith that did not fade…with time.

I’m sorry I gave more importance to blacks and greys and your monochrome wardrobe when it should have been primary colours.

Red; like you love Christmas.

Blue; like you feel one with the ocean.

Yellow; like you wish you knew how to love happiness.

I’m sorry that I used you to break your own heart, that I used the smallest of instances to break your faith.

I’m sorry for the footsteps all over your heart.

I’m sorry I caused you pain so you could write about it.

Stab One: Red Paint.

Stab Two: Restock.

Maybe I did love a primary colour after all.

But not as I should have.

I’m sorry I pitied you when I let you bleed.

I should have been brave, I should have sipped your tears and worn your wounds like a medal of honour.

If only I could paint in the shades of gold; the colour of your heart.

Alas, my colorblind love affair has been one devoid of love.

Uninspired, only to remember all the times anyone said you didn’t deserve to be.

I’m sorry I let you believe that they were right.

You’ve always been different, honey and I’m sorry…I’m sorry for all the times I failed to recognize how much you deserved to be valued.

Im sorry that when you wanted to send paper rockets to the moon and messages in bottles to far off exotic countries…you didn’t.

I promise that the next time I find you an ocean or a piece of paper, I will make it up to you.

This is an apology for how long it has taken me to get here.

I’m sorry, my watch stopped working.

Every few minutes, I rewind it but the hands stand still.

The hourglass is glued to the table.

Waiting.

Still waiting.

This is an apology to who you became because of me.

This is an apology to who you could have been.

This is an apology to love, to us. 

To the way leftover love faded so quickly, so quietly; lost in a world of life.

To the living grave you buried yourself in.

To the carcass I left for Cupid’s vultures to feed on.

I’m sorry you had to love them lights out to forget what hating yourself felt like.

I’m sorry for all the times I failed to recognize that you were a hero.

I’m sorry for not being able to let go of your pain when I should have.
I’m sorry that I’m still holding on.

But I’m trying.

I’m sorry it’s taken me so much time to try and love me.

I’m sorry I’m a conflict.

But I’m trying.

If I couldn’t love you then, I promise to love the you that will survive…now.

I’m sorry I don’t know how to end this but I hope that someday the pain will.

Until then, I’ll try.

Winter.

Spring.

Summer.

Fall.

Winter.

Oh, but here comes Spring again.

-A 

P.S. Despite everything, don't forget to look up at the stars in the sky and remember that you have always been a dreamer. I promise that the stars will make you dream away the scars that made you bleed.