Perhaps this letter should have started with an 'i am sorry'; an apology for all the time I've frightened you for my life,  for pushing your mind to assumptions that your words were no consolation,  for chosing the momentary pleasure of that which will eventually deteriorate my body.

An apology for turning a deaf ear to your plea and the tears you've wasted on them. Maybe an explanation that doesn't leave you more confused than when I was defensive, refusing to share my depth. An excuse for all those times I've used humor to shadow the perfect fleeting instances we've shared.

I'm sorry
But i'm not
I'm sorry for letting you down
I'm not for leaning so heavily on things that werent you
I'm sorry I've neglected your care
I'm not for taking away your hope that perhaps things will be better, perhaps things will change and I will be, once more,  the pillar you can lean on
I'm sorry for being the vortex in your existent
But i'm not for your choice to stay
I'm sorry for this letter
I'm even more sorry that you'll get to read it