For The Boy I Never Could Quite Reach

January 2, 2013
The soft mumble and groan of the car as it slows to a halt in the darkness is enough to make anyone feel nostalgic for something not quite tangible in their thoughts.

That's how I felt that night in the backseat of your parent's car.

I felt your warm and rhythmic breathing being blown onto my chest from your half opened mouth.

You were always so beautiful when you were asleep, so fragile and vulnerable. Ready to break at any moment.

I thought about how our love was fleeting with the warm weather ending, us grasping onto something that was not meant to be.

But still I held you tighter that night and you half opened your eyes and looked at me and I saw in your glossy eyes that you knew.

We both knew.

But you squeezed me back and I could feel the coldness in the embrace down to my core.

We all want to hold onto something that gets us through the night, and maybe for tonight that was enough.

Maybe I wasn't ready to give myself up and you weren't ready to let anyone into your icy heart.

I remember whispering to you that I'd never let you fall and you looked at me and gave me a sad, half smile.

The kind of sad, half smile that said I am so, so sorry.

So I said goodbye to you that night and as I watched the headlights disappear from view, I realized that I am sorry for a lot of things.

But I am just an incomplete, lost girl whose hopes are so far stretched.

Quite too far for an angry, hurt boy whose never going to understand the difference between hate and love.

So I whispered my apologies to the summer air and decided that although I was sorry for many things, you were too far gone to understand any of them.

And maybe you didn't deserve an apology regardless, and for that I am sorry, too.

I wish I could have meant more to you.

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