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Aesthetic: A Late Apology

I'm sorry.

By g. whilesPublished 7 years ago 2 min read
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Everything was perfect about you,

Except me

I was the flaw in your everyday,

The stain on the tapestry that is your life

I never knew why you stayed

I was messy and unreliable,

Never knowing what I wanted or if I was wanted

But you,

You were so perfect

Your body reminded me of the things poets wrote about

The rainy days that only lead to that beautiful rainbow

The colorful flowers that had the deepest of meanings

The lake that was frozen over and was a promise of beauty to come

Your limbs reminded me of branches

Ones that were birthed from a tree only as beautiful,

Only as wonderful as you

Your eyes were the stars

And every other cliché

Your lips were my favorite, though

They were your biography

They told me stories about you

Fascinating tales about you and your life and everything you loved and desired

They told me everything and anything I wanted to know

And I wanted to know it all

You see, I was greedy

I took and I took and I took

I was like humanity

I saw your beauty and wanted to claim it

I wanted to make it my own

I wanted to keep it around for my pleasure

And I never thought of you

I never realized that all I was doing was taking

I never gave back

I never let you become a permanent fixture in my existence

I never told you the secrets of my life

I never let you curl up inside my body as I did yours

I was greedy

I took and never gave anything to you

I saw your beauty but I never understood it

Not until now, when you’re gone and I can’t get you back

You withered and died but you were still so beautiful that I didn’t see I was killing you

You tried to stop me, you tried to warn me

But I was too caught up in my own selfish behavior that I didn’t realize, didn’t even think that i…

That I could do something so wrong

You never did recover from my slaughter

I see it every day as I walk by you

You didn’t lose the stars that were in your eyes

You became them

The stars that humans and animals see when they look up at night

And wouldn’t that be a beautiful metaphor

You rose from the ashes after I burned you

You became something so much more beautiful than I could imagine

But I think an even better metaphor is the one that is you

The stars are not something you want to become

Not the ones we see anyway

But you became them

After I killed you,

You became the beautiful corpses of the night

And I am sorry

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About the Creator

g. whiles

he/they. queer writer just trying to find my place (corny, i know).

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