I never told you this story:

The story is, when we first me, first falling in love, I had a choice. I was at a party, with my friends, and you texted me. You wanted to get drunk, bring a friend and show off some new guy you met.

And I was talking with a beautiful French girl.

She was impeccable, with long dark hair and she scared many of the guys away with the intensity in her stare. Her accent made every word a masterpiece, and her style strict Parisian. She did it all like we could do it, but she did it differently. And she could dance.

I asked my friend what I should do.

He took a drink and told me “If she comes man, she’ll only want to dance with you.” He said this as he glanced at the beautiful French girl smiling at me, and I smiled back at her. And that sealed the deal in the kitchenette.

So I walked backed to her, and she held out her hand. She pulled me in close, and I could smell her hair. She smiled as she taught me, laughed as I failed, and it took a while to get the hang of it, but I finally prevailed.

And I danced with the French girl.

I ignored your texts, blocked your calls. And it was her that I was texting on my walk home, forgotten about you at a bus stop far from home. It was the feel her of her body against mine I missed, not yours.

And even though I later chose you, I later fell for you, and I later lost you, that night, I chose her. I chose the dream over reality; someone knew over a scene well seen; I chose love, I chose me.

And do I regret that decision?

Well, out of all the decisions I made which lead me to loving you, I have absolutely no regrets in dancing with the beautiful French girl.

Maybe it was a precursor, a sign I should have taken. But to me, it’s just a memory, and a memory I’ll never forget, a memory I'll always have about dancing with the French girl in the downstairs kitchenette.

I cannot even
Begin to tell you how much
I've missed our friendship.

You've been popping up all over the place
but for all my memories, where did you go?

Can't bring myself to say
what you want to hear,
my life is not what you had in mind.
There's a part of me
that feels I owe you nothing,

the part that parted

and doesn't know you.
As if it all wasn't in the same breath already.

But today is just like the rest of my daze

just a cherried wick, till I'm gone
in a puff of smoke.

And yeah, it's been cold enough
to see my own breath.
So I've started to make sure I keep a pack of friends around.
But I can't tell whose breath
I'm conjuring, leaving it
to hang among regret and confusion

and there you are again.

Way back when, when I was a teen,
I missed the morning 7:17,
The train was cancelled again,
Nothing changed, missed connections, pain!
I read it the other day, okay?
Still cancelling the 7:17 each day!

I lost you, no we lost you
We have missed you, we will miss you.

We have lost your wiley, witty, sarcastic humor.
So creative, we lost your bass voice sound as deep and strong as Gabriel's trumpet.
Always time for us, even when there wasn't.

But why?
Why, why, why, why, WHY?!?
Why didn't you love yourself like we loved you?
You let it get bad, then worse, until it was too late.
You had left us...
I asked you for to see the doctor...
You put it off, not for a day. It was weeks...
I am hurt, you are missed so...
Missed so much...

I will go on, but the world is that much darker...

I'm not just someone who time-after-time ***** things up.
I honestly believe I wrote the book on it.

And my book is filled with stories of how I, no one else, single-handedly messed up everything I could have had.
I've messed a whole lot of things up in my life.
And I regret it all.

And lately, I've been thinking,
About all that I've done wrong.

It's been weighing on my mind like an anvil.
And also on my heart.

I've done myself wrong,
I've done school wrong,
But most importantly,
I've done others wrong.

I've neglected outreached hands that could have been my lifelines.
I've missed opportunities that could have been my successes.
I've thrown away friends that could have been my family.
But above all else, I've missed the chances to have the things I want most in my life, and I have no one to blame but myself.

And honestly, I have no idea why.
I've had everything that I have ever wanted right in the palm of my hand.
Everything I ever wanted was reaching its hand out to me...

And I ****** it up.

And now, here I am writing another poem about the things I could've had,
Instead of enjoying them myself.

If I could just have one wish in life,
One more opportunity,

I would want to go back and fix it all,

Go back to those moments,
Go back to those days,
Go back to the hospitals,
Go back to the parks,
Go back to the rehab centers,
Go back to those precious moments,
And not **** things up.

Because if only I could just go back,

Maybe I'd have better stories to tell.

Feet hanging from the deck
of the bow, sitting shoulder
to shoulder and thigh
to thigh. I can’t help but wonder
in what ways the salt air
is dancing off of the sound
and over our taste buds,
changing the way we read
the Prosecco between us.

I almost didn’t bring this bottle.
The thought of opening the cage—
six half-turns forward,
wrapping my palm around the
wire frame, twisting the bottle,
by the base, off of the cork—
it all seemed like too much.

There are too many ways
to mess it up, and I know that
I don’t have a grip on anything
when I am around you, but
I no longer believe that bottles
should be left
uncorked.

I have brought to you your question
Brought to you direction
Listen,
It's not a competition
Don't petition
Resist them
What's your position
Your mind fruition
You list it
Twist it
Missed it.