You're deluding yourself
If you think
Every poem I write
Is about you.

I'm actually fine—
Better than before,
You didn't ruin my life:
You showed the truth,
That life with you wasn't right.

You ask for apologies,
Like they're currency,
But there's not debt here,
No sin to be forgiven.

For you see,
I found peace,
In the space between us.

This poem doesn't rhyme,
Because life never does,
And that's where its beauty lies—
In the imperfect flawed world.

© Aurora Bridston