On thinking back,
it would seem you weren't a mistake.
I can think of you with a smille now,
no expletives, no harsh grimace,
it is as if I am free of the scar,
the scar of my own self-loathing.
All the hate and disgust,
it was never intended for you,
come manifest for my own misgivings.
The act was something I regretted,
but because it was what it was,
not because it was committed with you.
Looking back,
you were the first bit of what I wanted,
my first taste of reality, in all it’s flavors,
you woke me from the slumber of mundanity.