Although I didn’t know at first,
It was an ended thing.
I would say, through no fault of my own
But I thought she
Was something she was not.
Was someone she was not.
So she hurt me.
And I hurt myself.
And in the end I was hurt.
Listening to the sorry sigh of wind, I think.
Knowing all of this
Am I any better off?
Agitation of hands. Strength of words. 
i wish i knew exactly what you mean by this. i wish i could have you explain it to me.
does the title have anything to do with the kavanagh poem?
Yes. It does.
Shrewd.
personally, i am sorry that i didn’t fit your image of me. whether it be a good image or bad image i am to you, sorry for your grief. unfortunately, i can’t help you in all of this. i think for right now you should try and forget me and then maybe one day we will meet again and it will be for a longer time and different. and don’t feel sad with this message. just smile and be cheerful because its your birthday!
things happen for a reason.
don’t worry Sarah.
it’s not meant to be you.
you’d never intentionally hurt me.
that I know, at least.
well good that makes me happy a bit.
cos i’m not made out of clay.
if you understand what i mean.
On a quiet street where old ghosts meet,
I see her walking now away from me,
So hurriedly. My reason must allow,
For I have wooed, not as I should
A creature made of clay.
When the angel woos the clay, he’ll lose
His wings at the dawn of the day.
I understood.