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It got a little stormy in NYC today.

I’m a honeybee, breaking your heart, broke mine enough to kill me. I let you feel my sting before my last bittersweet moments of flying. I thought I heard you say something about being undeserving, but this time not of a love so great, but of a pain inflicted so selfishly.

I think that you deserve some form of apology. So here I am, and here it is. I’m sorry.

You were the balloon that drifted from the flock into my window,  but you slipped right through my fingers that grew too tiresome to hold you. I watched you float away, watched as it turned into desperate longing. This time not for some drastic change, but for the string that was made to be held by me.

I think that you deserve some form of apology. So here I am, once again, I’m sorry.

I don’t even want you back. No, I would never want to risk something like that. 'Cause I lost faith in myself, when I turned away, from the one with the longest stretch of embracing arms to hold me. So now I’m all alone. I guess God grew too tired to fix the mistakes he made with love. I think his biggest mistake was making me.