we used to paint butterflies on our stomachs

ah, the innocence of youth
didn't last more than a week.

remember the kiss,
remember the heat,
remember the first?

love. that's what they call it now.

we used to break hearts on the back porch.

somehow, i can't remember your face.
at least when it wasn't smothered by his.

the greed,
the pain,
the silence,
i remember it all.

not to mention,
i can never forget his fist.

we used to say we were made for each other.

you were always a liar anyway.
sorry was never sincere.

"sorry about your face."
"sorry i missed your call."
"sorry for the memories."

sorry doesn't cut it.

we used to, but we grew up.