My Lost Months

"I’m sorry for crying all of the time. 
I’m sorry that you got mad, and I tried to get mad, and instead I fell apart.
I’m sorry that it was all on you to walk away. I know I didn’t make it easy.
I am sorry that I called you a coward. 
I am sorry that it is too late to tell you that I have always thought of you as being anything but.

I’m sorry that those things ever stopped being true.
I’m sorry that I still remember that you said them.

I know now that we never loved like this.
Oh, we loved, and there was so much happiness.
There was passion, and there was pain.
But it was the you that I could no longer have that I fell so profoundly in love with that I thought my veins would always be aching for a shared laugh or an intentional physical contact. 
I inflated our best times, lost a grip on our worst. 
Remember that I did this, when you wonder why I lost my mind when you left. 
Remember that I was not remembering us and our lost battles,
but only the most fleeting moments.
I thought never of the fights, incompatibility, or anger.
Only of the songs, car rides, sunsets, cliche overbearing indescribable lung-clenching love that there is no word for, while forgetting that those moments were few, far between, and may have only existed for one of us.

I am sorry for how I acted.
I am sorry for inventing a you that was impossible to let go.
I am sorry that anything left you might have been keeping with you to look back on our relationship fondly with, I dismantled,
destroyed in the fire of my lost months. 

To my old friend whom I shall never address as anything else,

I am sorry that I fell in love with a version of you that I invented.
I am sorry that I will never again know you, me, or us.
I do not know, my friend, if I am sorry about what I let waste away."