I'm sorry for a lot of things.
To you specifically,
I'm sorry that I didn't know you longer,
before letting you have everything,
before letting you have my all,
before building a short-lived life with you.
I'm sorry that I held your hand,
and told you I'd be yours,
before I knew the true definition of you.
I'm sorry to you, dear lover of mine,
that our time must end,
and our love must be given over to the past.
I'm sorry that because of these things,
you're suffering and feel like you're drowning.
I'm sorry that I furnished an apartment,
made our space into a home,
and now must take back all of my things.
I wish it could be different,
I wish I would have known you longer,
learned you longer,
long enough to see you deeper depths,
before jumping in head first.
Had I known,
Oh, God, had I known
that you were hiding so much from me,
from yourself,
I would have simply not gotten so close.
I see you now as I did then,
I see you as innocent,
though I know you are certainly not.
I see you as truthful and kind,
though I know you've not been.
I see you as mine,
though you are no longer.
Because I was blind to your truth,
I can never see you as I should have all along.
For thinking I saw you and knew you,
I'm sorry  to me.