You asked me why I was sorry.
I said

I'm sorry,
because of the way the sun shines in your eyes when you're driving in the morning.
I'm sorry,
because of that one time I tripped on the museum steps and skinned my knee.
I'm sorry,
because I just am.

You asked me why I hate myself.
I said

I hate myself,
because of the way my eyelashes fall out so quickly.
I hate myself,
because of that one time I said that stupid thing.
All of those times I said those stupid things.
All of those times I did those stupid things.
I hate myself,
because I just do.

You asked me why I loved you.
I said

I love you,
because of the way your smell always helps me get to sleep.
I love you,
because of the way the ridges in your fingerprints feel against my cheek.
I love you,
because I just do.