I watched from afar, my heart heavy with guilt,
The boy, standing cold, as her tears gently built.
She stood before him, fragile and small,
And whispered, "I’m sorry," though it wasn’t her fall.
Her eyes, still tender, though broken inside,
Offered an apology she had no need to provide.
She bowed her head, as if to confess,
For the heartbreak he caused, in all of its mess.
He stood unmoved, oblivious, blind,
To the storm he had left, to the damage he’d signed.
Yet there she was, with no fault to bear,
Offering sorrow, as if life were fair.
She spoke of mistakes, of things left unsaid,
While the boy, in his silence, let the guilt spread.
It wasn’t her fault—no, it never was,
But there she stood, broken because—
She thought the fault was hers to own,
That somehow, she’d left him alone.
But I saw the truth, though they didn’t—
He was the one who should have been repentant.
Her apology was like a fragile plea,
For love he had shattered, carelessly.
Yet, she still bowed, still bore the weight,
While he, untouched, sealed her fate.
I stood as a witness, aching inside,
For a girl who deserved so much more than to hide.
Her apology was a gift undeserved,
From a heart broken, yet still preserved.
