broken wings; promises.

You
say I'm much too proud.
Too right too often; too aware.

But
you missed the part where
I'm too gone to care.

Your eyes,
dull.

Your lips,
chapped.

Your hair,
gelled.

Your mind,
closed.

Your hobbies,
old.

So you ask
how I could walk away.
The truth is
I was never there;
and it wasn't
a long trip back:
To the days before settling filled my mind,
before I wasn't yours though you were mine.

I opened your door and said you're free to go;
you're the saddest bird I've ever known.




I used to be sorry.
Now I'm just happy.