I am typical.
I am a Sagittarius Sun, Virgo Moon and Cancer Rising.
If you know what that means, I apologize for knowing and loving me.
I apologize for the dichotomy.
I apologize for the hypocrisy.
I apologize for not being able to control my emotions.
I apologize for the tears falling down my face while I laugh hysterically.
I apologize for all the nights we spent talking and talking and talking.
I apologize for wanting you to show me love in inopportune times.
I apologize for pretending to be hard.
I apologize for being so soft.
I was born 16 days before Christ, so I have a complex.
I was cherished a beauty by the one who broke me.
I was a violent Queen.
A vicious butterfly.
A venomous angelic.
A silent spring.
A silent thing humming in the little brain.
A trembling hand of sugar, spilt.
A cup of warm milk in summer.
I apologize for all you’ve done, and all I haven’t minded.
I am only partially to blame.
I blame the rain, I blame the lack of sun inside my veins.
I blame bad posture, my taste in sad music.
I blame happiness for distracting.
I blame everything because it’s easier.
But lately…
I’ve been lacerating the anomalies.
No need for acting.
No need for severed limbs or saturated tongues.
I want the swelling,
I want the severity of all my neglect.
