I'm sorry.
I'm sorry I couldn't stay.
The house we built together
strong in the beginning was blown away
with so much wear and tear that it could no longer stand.

The foundation cracked in December.
The fights didn't stop,
days and weeks they'd go on,
but you fixed it with an "I'm sorry" and a hug.

In January the pipes burst.
The tears in my eyes were a constant thing
you didn't see them and just kissed me with a smile.
The house flooded.

By February the walls began to rot and the ceilings were caving in.
You tried to repair what you broke,
and were so oblivious you thought you did,
but they're wrong when they say duck tape can fix everything.

March you stood outside the door in the light.
You tried to lock me in the house with no escape.
"You don't tear down a house, because of a busted lightbulb,"
but the walls were falling and the ceiling was slowly becoming the floor.

I couldn't stay in a house waiting to **** me.
You locked me in as tight as you could,
but the windows were weak and I broke out.
And as much as you hated to see it,
I lit the match and watched that crumbling house burn to the ground.

So I'm sorry your heart is now broken
and burned down with that crippled house.
I'm thinking of myself now
and I'm sorry to say that my happiness
is more important than you being in my life.