I was cross and sore, in that order, and it seemed only natural at the time. Sorry? No. Regretful? Yes. There are so many other things I could have done if I'd been in my head.
If blood were wine, you'd be dead and I'd be drunk all the time. I said I'd be with you when you were gone, I can prove it: here I am. Laid out neatly on your bed, everything you took for granted. You felt me with your fingertips and you found I was unkind. It's okay dear because at the time you were blinded by the new and exciting.