i say i’m sorry
so you know i care.
because silence feels like giving up,
and i’d rather bruise myself with guilt
than make you wonder if i feel anything at all.

i say it
because i don’t know what else to say.
because love doesn’t always come out soft
when it lives in a body like mine.
a body that flinches from closeness,
but aches for it all the same.

i say it
because i break things.
people.
promises.
quiet moments that deserved to stay whole.
and i want you to know
that i see the damage,
that i’m not blind to what i cause.

how long can i be sorry
before i break?

before the guilt becomes a fault line,
and all my trying
just splits me in two?
before the apology
is the only thing left of me?

i say i’m sorry
because i still believe in glue,
in hands that hold,
in second chances.
but i don’t know
how many more times
i can be the one who breaks things
and still expect
to be held.

i say i’m sorry
because i love you.
and i’m terrified
that won’t be enough.