I, am the wind. I am the sun. I, am nothing but a free soul wandering the planet hurt. I am not the damsel in distress. I am the distress itself. I never comb my hair for even if I do, nothing makes difference.
I am the kind of girl who stuck little flowers on my notebooks hoping it would remind me of summer breeze and garden soil. Also, i am the same person who collects and hides skeletons of what it used to under my bed.
I am the girl in your poetry book your English professor asked you to desensitized. I am the mess in every chaos there is. I am the volcanic eruption of madness and loathing.
Can you still remember your first grade? Because I am the least favorite color in your crayon box. I am the paradox of everything you want to have. And I AM TRULY SORRY.
I am sorry I was not your first love. I am sorry when i am the total opposite of her. She reminds you of sweet melody while I resemble noise.
I am sorry I cannot sing you a single note even though I am dying to sing you a love song that would ever describe this cosmic fondness i feel for you. I am sorry I don’t own a perfectly porcelain skin, mine is tarnished with sun rays and eloquent sadness.
I am sorry I do not interest you or have the ability to make you glance my way. I am sorry that I’m just a part time artist and a full time emotional exhaustion. I am sorry you decided to choose me because you thought i was a treasure chest but clearly, I am the shipwreck. And now you have to try to listen to my unending intrusive thoughts. And I am sorry, I apologize too much.
I am sorry that all I can do is hold you when your world is falling apart. I will stay late up just to listen you ramble with words of passion. I can never paint but I’ll write poems on your skin and stuck little dandelions on the side cracks of your heart. I can never sing but I swear to god, I know the rhythm of your voice when your happy or sad. I can never be your first love, I know, but can I be the love that never ended?