I blamed it on timing, parallel worlds, distant stars

And the difficulty from rivers to unpaved roads to you.

I came up with every theory and every metaphor

Blaming it on being a prisoner of my own secret garden

Calling our timing different seasons

And asking you to forget about the Old World and enter the New.

I idolized you until my heart bled dry

Then I recognized your flaws and what I hated most about you

And the scar tissue grew and I loved you even more.

I showed up every day through rainy weather and turbulent “may days”

To reach you and every day you chose to whistle

Another tune for a brave new start with someone else.

And in the end all I can do is stare at a mirror and state

“It’s all your fault.”

You could never admit you cared.

And I tried more than you ever did and I can live with that.

Can you?

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