if i just could have seen the truth
and known the harm that i had done;
i might have fixed the things i broke –
i might have been a salvaged one –

but every day i broke your heart
and caused so much i missed distress;
if i just could have loved you more
and treasured you, and hurt you less

but that was far and long ago;
you changed your life to one of joy
and look back only with disgust
upon the man – the really, boy –

to whom you gave your very best
back when the sun was bright and young;
but now, i sit here in the dark
to see the thing that i’ve become

i’m glad for you, for you did right
escaping from me as you did;
i blustered on in selfishness
and callousness. i live amid

the wreckage that was once my life.
but i remember you, and see
and old man may at least regret
his asinine fatuity

for love will not knock on my door;
the sun will not come back again —
but please: young guys – protect your loves —
and grow old not as monsters, but
as men