The brief thought caught my mind today. Would I ever see you again? And if I did, what would I say?

In that second, I almost thought I’d say “I’m sorry.”

I’m sorry you never got to see the apex of our love. I’m sorry you never realized what it felt like for someone to just adore you. To soak themselves around you. To become drunk off of the aura of you, the thought of you.

But then, like an awakening from any sad dream, I realized, you did have that. My infatuation with you was endless. My love, relentless. My devotion, senseless, reckless.

I gave you all there was. Every moment. Every beat. Every breath. Every thought.

And you clouded it. With greed. And lust. And disgrace. And disgust.

You looked straight through the purest of love and tossed it away for women you’re only now connected to on Facebook. For girls who couldn’t ever tell you the color of your eyes. Or why you’re so weak inside. Or how you spent your life losing inside of a winner’s body.

I’m not sorry. I’m sorry if I ever was. Because what happened between you and me was no mistake of mine.

I gave you all the corners of my soul and you walked around in circles looking for something more.

I had nothing more to give you.

There is something that does make me sorry still. I’m sorry I regret you. I’m sorry my first love was the gut-wrenching kind. I’m sorry I can’t think of the good times without thinking of the bad times and absolutely wincing in physical pain. I’m sorry that I, who cared only about you, fell in love with you, who also cared only about you.

So I guess if we ever run into each other, I will say “I’m sorry.” I’m sorry for any woman who loves with all she is and is returned the favor with lies and deception and callousness and you. For that, I’m truly sorry. And that is what I’ll say, should I ever run into you.