Too little. Too late.

I remember when your bike wheels got stolen
I was in my room
you busting through the front door,
the sudden eruption was so violent
it turned me on

I wanted to bake you a cake with confetti inside-
there was always this immediate need to make things right.
but instead I knelt in front of you,
there in the bathroom,
giving you a speech of tough love.
(hey the jig as I saw it was up.)

and I went out that night.
I got drunk.
so much so that I tried to drink you out of me.
you mixed so well with the taste of toxic tonic,
within my vile thrist you thinned there in my blood.
I drank you. right. out. of. me.

The truth:
I just didn't have the balls to tell you everything.