If I Could Turn Back Time

This was something I cannot undo. I tried, I tried so hard. I'm sorry. I miss you. Not you being gone. But you as yourself. Think on that.

If I Could Turn Back Time

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There are many things I regret.

Hurting you is at the very top of that list.

You don’t have to speak to me again.

Not if you don’t wish to.

There are still things I am too afraid to say out loud.

That isn’t your fault.

That was ruined by another a long time ago.

Back when I couldn’t know better.

 I miss those times when we pretended not to care.

We could pretend these things didn’t bother us.

But now it seems we let reality sink in.

Haven’t we?

Perhaps it’s my pride.

I can’t seem to act like myself.

Everything has turned colder.

Darker.

Silent days.

I wait around even though I know that table will be empty.

I continue to wait.

Yet as expected, it was empty.

“He said, she said.”

Conversations in my head.

That’s just where they’re going to stay forever.

You would never know.

False hope.

I wondered how long it would last.

Which one of us would be the first to break?

Even now, I’m still unsure.

As a writer my words are carefully pinpointed.

But don’t mistake them for wisdom.

My advice comes with a price.

A price of experience, and of pain.

Just when I was almost convinced “words meant nothing.”

I proved him wrong.

In the worst possible way.

I’m sorry I was right.

You deserve every good thing life has to offer.

I will never deny that.

But you sometimes really upset me.

Though never burden me.

I stay up countless nights.

Not because of you.

But because of other people. 

And myself.

What good am I if I cannot prove myself?

All those arguments.

The attitude.

The false confidence.

That’s not really me.

I’m sorry I may have let you think so.

I’m sorry I let myself think so.

But it’s impossible to turn back time.

I have a story to tell.

There was once a young girl.

She stood by the front window of her house.

Staring at all the cars passing by.

When she heard a voice.

It was loud.

Cold.

It belonged to a man.

One that knew her mother.

The girl never liked him.

Something didn’t feel right.

She barely even knew who he was.

But she could trust her mother..

She heard the man’s footsteps.

The girl ran and hid behind the couch.

The man walked out of the bedroom to find her.

He yelled at her to stay in the bedroom.

I cut this story short.

I know the ending.

I know why I refuse to trust you.

I’m sorry I struggle with it.

I can’t help it.

I can’t help but jump every time a person touches me.

I didn’t know why at first.

But I remember now.

I remember it.

The words I most regret.

The ones I never meant to leave.

Upset or angry.

Either way I still care.

I don’t want that to be the last thing we remember.

But it’s not just up to me.

It’s a choice.

One that you can choose to make.

I will be honest with you.

Sometimes you scare me.

That is not your intention.

Nor is that your fault.

When someone knows a lot about you.

It can be difficult to trust that.

Trust that they keep that.

I know you can.

I just don’t know if I can.

If I could turn back time.

I would have never told you.

You would merely just be someone I happened to talk to.

Only because I think you would have preferred that.

Who wants this?

What was I thinking to begin with?

If I could turn back time.

Maybe it wouldn’t hurt as much.

If I could turn back time.

Then I could tell you.

How sorry I am.

That I ever liked you.

Author's Note

You have regrets too. I am sure of it. Be honest. Am I one of them?