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.