The last time you write how walking down wind of that guy, who’s wearing whatever the hell was his smell, made you want to curl up and die.
The first time you’ll write you should’ve stayed, instead of getting stuck in games you never should’ve played. If you’d stuck around, you could’ve made them so proud – and that’s the last time you’ll say it out loud.
The last time you’ll say you’re in the wrong place – all that should’ve been now could’ve been and so much time gone to waste.
The last time you’ll regret that which you see as a set back, the last time its just confidence you lack.
The last time you long to let him see how you’ve changed, from experience he helped you gain.
It’s the last time you’re going to apologise for every time you lied, everything that you did, all those late nights you cried – and all that you hid. The way that you see him in spiral throes and cutting tomatoes, you’ll say what they already know and mumble something about letting go.
The last time from this rope you’ll fall and outwardly consider ending it all – you’re fully-grown and experience has taught better off alone. Sit up on your own and pretend you’re not terrified – no one needs to know.
The last time you’ll say you wish it didn’t end up this way, but you played with his heart and friendship doesn’t stretch that far. That you never should’ve listened to anyone else.
Should’ve just focused on how it felt.