I didn't mean to hurt you.
I didn't mean to.
I wanted to become a salvation, to carry you away.
I wrote a lot about our days. I put up my best thoughts and told them to be kind when they find themselves crossing that space between my mind and the paper.
I wanted to carry you away.
I wanted to take you to my words, and make them bolt around your body the same way they did to me. The same way they saved me.
All this time.
All this time we were two pieces of flesh and bones, whose fingers were swiped together in a papercut.
We hurt from the same culprit.
And here we are, still hurting, besides the already healed wounds.
All this time I wanted to save you.
From day one, I wanted to save you.
I wanted to take you from going through the motions and make you see what was happening whilst you grieved.
I didn't mean to make you mine.
I didn't mean to hurt you.
I didn't mean to make you mine because I didn't mean to hurt you.
In the end, I guess saving is not meant to be done by humans.
From not wanting you to hurt, I was then the one that put your wound in pieces again.
I was the one who needed you
to need
salvation
from me.