Letter To My Future Lover

I don't know if you can call this a poem because of its lack of structure. Also, it's supposed to be in the same timeline as this: http://hisvore.pen.io/

I'm sorry I lied.

I'm sorry I declared epic love and wrote promises on your shoulderblades. I'm sorry I used the word of others like chains and poweful drugs to always keep you sedated and close to me. I'm sorry. I mean it.

I guess love, love, love made me crazy. Would you call this love? If you had any desire to speak to me anymore, what would you call this?

I'd call it desperation and I should have known that I'd do it but in you I saw promise. Promise of stability and everlasting company. In your body I saw my paradise, my addiction and my demise so I held on, like addicts do, without caring what happened to me and what my weight and my hands did to us both.

Know that if I had the power to change everything I would, I'd give you an entirely bettter version of me, a different room, a different city, a different everything. And maybe we wouldn't have crashed and burnt in all enveloping fire that broke any tether I had to you.

I guess you won't be reading this anyways. Won't you, sweetheart?