by Alina Tiurina
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I wonder what feelings come up when you think about me now.
When people ask you about me, can you even manage to say my name?
How does it taste when you do?
When people ask me about you, the word sorry spills out of my mouth before anything else can.
It’s almost like a verbal reflex, like I’m always prepared to say it if you give me the chance to.
I know you won’t.
But that doesn’t stop me from saying it to everyone else and it doesn’t stop me from missing you.
Maybe in another universe, this doesn’t happen.
Maybe in another universe, you and I are just fine.
I can only hope I’m not making the same mistakes there too.
Maxwell Diawuoh, Request: I hurt you and I’m so sorry and I miss you so much. (via maxwelldpoetry)
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