Broken vase

I'm sorry for breaking things,

but I want to put the peices 

back together any way that I can 

like a clumsy child

super-gluing a broken vase

letting the paste seep through 

with extra ooze in the missing parts

and the holes in between 

our separate dreams.

I know it will never be the same.

I'm sorry for making you sad

or any moment less good

than you deserve for it to be.

If you'd known I'd hurt you so, 

would you have done the same? 

Would you still have gone all the way,

enshrouded by the rain?

I imagine you feel 

I've disappeared beneath my skin, 

playing pretend.

I want your pain to end,
and mis- intention
of hopeful hearts, now torn apart,

with no more words tossed helplessly 

between your heart and teeth,

no more bitten cheeks;

no more of this story.

Oh, how I feel this. 

Didn't we grow, didn't we grow?

Didn't we get close?