There is so much
I need to apologize for
Even though
I already know
you'll tell me not to be sorry

I'll always feel bad
for the little things
like my smart *** comments
or my loss of control
every time I see a Volkswagen

But then there are the hard hitters,
matter on a larger scale
Such as my perpetual depressive state
or my impaired sense of
proper intimacy

My largest fear is you
one day realizing how difficult
I am;
I don't want you to learn to despise me
like all those preceding you

I'm sorry for being
so very broken
You don't need to pick up my pieces
But if you'd like to,
I might not argue