Insincere

I swear I didn't mean to make you feel like you were drowning.

You took my words. You gave the weight. You gave them meaning.

Now your lungs are black. They're torn, and yes, there's scarring.

But do you honestly expect a sincere sorry?

You begged me to say it.

Suddenly I'm a purveyor of the truth.

I can't. I won't.

You say I broke your heart. I stole your youth.

I can't. I won't take another second of your withering stares.

You’re not my problem anymore.

Maybe you shouldn't kiss people on dares.

Don't worry.

You won't have to see me anymore.

I'm just a sore memory,

an old, faded scar.

And I swear I didn't mean to make you feel this awful weight that's in your chest.

You believed a stupid lie so easily, I thought you were possessed.

Now your heart is mean and cold, and yet still, it's beating, dear.

Let your naive heart beat for another.

Perhaps one more sincere?