i discovered

i wasn’t sculpted

nor molded for you.

i tried to contort myself into

the shape of your laugh

and love

and beauty but i found myself

unable to reach for it all.

it was not your fault

nor was it mine.

i catch myself thinking of a million ways it all could of worked out,

if only i could–

if only i was–

but i could not and

i was not

and that’s okay.

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