Friday, May 26

Not Sorry

I have been waiting for this moment. For the past tense. For the 3rd-person narrative, although the narrator is still me. I had been hoping for this moment of certainty that his toxic presence would not touch me anymore. I smile at the thought of being free. Of having gotten over.
"I am sorry," I'd tell him, but I am not. Not for myself.
I have found deeper meaning, sweeter smile, loving arms.
"You" is not "him" anymore.

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