Turned the page for that.

No idea if busy,
no head for others,
party bomber
or it is me
simply that I had acted
obsessive enough to weird you out.
I don’t know
why I write to you
I do it every time
Maybe I shouldn’t have gone
for you
or because of  you
or because I felt like there was
something to behold.
I don’t know
why I still mourn
for you
why there is even
reason to be sad
you are woman
I am man
there is still a million
and I don’t know all of them
still I want to keep it like that.
people love me
they always did
I don’t know
why this shouldn’t be enough
wrapped in their thoughts and their hearts
but it is simple
it is not yours
I mourn for that.
Not able
to raise the dead.
What a bottom tier
of subhuman 

I am.
I drink to that
and turn the page. 

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