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“I wish I hadn't met you in the rain: it comes every winter. I wish you hadn't told me your favorite wine: I've become a drinker. I wish I never showed you my hidden birthmark: It looks back at me at night asking where you are. I wish I hadn't read you my journal, all the pages praising you, It's corrupted now that I can't tell if I write for me or you. I wish I hadn't told you my daily routine: it's not mine anymore. I can't enjoy 11:11, my favorite song, a birthday cake, or a concert tour. I'm not afraid of the future, it's the past that takes a while.” — Karl Kristian Flores
I wish I hadn't met you in the rain: it comes every winter.
I wish you hadn't told me your favorite wine: I've become a drinker.
I wish I never showed you my hidden birthmark:
It looks back at me at night asking where you are.
I wish I hadn't read you my journal, all the pages praising you,
It's corrupted now that I can't tell if I write for me or you.
I wish I hadn't told you my daily routine: it's not mine anymore.
I can't enjoy 11:11, my favorite song, a birthday cake, or a concert tour.
I'm not afraid of the future, it's the past that takes a while.