Years of my life and memory absorbed by you for barely a few moments of your attention.
Unsure of what it even is you possess that holds my gut, a slug of anxiety secretes in my throat every time I’m reminded that you’re there.
I don’t blame you. Knocked down and pulled up repeatedly, a callus had formed on my emotions stopping me from getting the words out that I needed to say.
It’s easy to regret, but to learn would be less exhausting.