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I wish I could have saved you.
I say to you nothing more than my deepest regrets. I offer you in this moment nothing else but everything i have yet to share with you. I offer you a tour into the places in my heart I had hoped neither of us would ever see.
I wish I could have saved you.
I wish my tears would have meant more than empty grief. I wish my scream had done more than bounce off the metal walls and feed the flames that burn beneath us. I wish that the scrapes on my knees from the way I had begged you and begged some form of a higher power for your own salvation had meant something more than your hand on my shoulder and a pitiful look that seemed alien to your strong eyes. I wish that there was anything i could’ve done. I wish that I was not so foredoomed to spend every second of every day feeling the warmth in my chest expand exponentially when I lay next to you at night just to have you ripped away so cruelly before I ever really even had you. I wish that I was not born to fall in love with you every day, with the way you smiled and the way that you held me and every single way that you tried harder to save me than I ever could’ve for you.
But I think really, I just wish I’d had more time.
I wish I’d had longer to relish in your embrace, I wish I’d had the courage to hold your hand sooner, I wish that I had known so that I could have spent every last second in complete worship of you, to let you know how much you meant to me, how impossibly much you meant, how if saving you meant throwing myself to those flames, I wouldn’t have given it a second thought.
I’m sorry that I couldn’t save you.
I’m sorry that I loved you.
I’m sorry that you loved me.
I’m sorry that i didn’t get more time to stop feeling sorry about that.