I’m So, So Sorry

I remember lying on Your bed, waiting for
You to come home from that walk that
You took because You needed
a break from my frustrating
inability to tell you what
I was feeling.

I did my best to muster up the courage to
say what had always been behind
my lips.

When You entered the room, I just
C R A C K E D.

Tears turned to rivers, rivers turned to oceans,
oceans threatened to drown me.
Because, even then, letting
it all spill out was not
cathartic.

My feelings were a porcupine quill, buried deep
under my skin. I tried to pull out the quill,
slowly, painfully. I made progress, but
I couldn’t get the quill out. I left a
third of it still down inside of
me, and now my skin was
inflamed and bloody
from the whole
ordeal.

I wanted to scream, but I didn’t. I wanted to
stop crying, but I didn’t. I wanted to
write these words out on Your
wall, but I didn’t.

Don’t You know that my thoughts are poems? That
they flow from me best with a pen and paper
or from a keyboard
or as a mural?

But of course You don’t because I’ve never opened
my mouth to say those words
to You.

I still keep my feelings underneath the surface. I’ve
always thought that it was just who I was. Until
You, I didn’t recognize that it is a flaw,
something that I need to let go of
in order to show trust and
vulnerability.

A relationship is a constant give and take, and I
need to give more of myself over for fairness’
sake and for my sake and more
importantly, for
Your sake.

I do promise that I’ll try harder next time,
but I know that it won’t be with You.






Photo by Adrianna Calvo from Pexels


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