Sorry
I’m sorry.
I’m sorry I pushed you away.
I’m sorry it felt like a one-time thing.
I’m sorry I didn’t see you sooner,
the you I wished I’d seen all along.
I’m sorry I didn’t realize sooner
that I was wrong.
I’m sorry you had to go through
so much hurt because of me.
I’m sorry I had to too.
I didn’t mean for things to turn out this way.
I didn’t mean for it to end the way it did.
I didn’t mean for it to end at all,
But here we are.
I wish it could have been different,
but I needed it to go the way it did.
I needed it to be the way it was,
because I wasn’t ready then.
I wasn’t ready for you,
for what we could be or
what we could do.
I wasn’t ready for who I needed to become
before I could even have a shot with
someone like you.
But that’s just it,
I thought I was.
I confused myself
and jumbled over my own two feet
time and time again
trying to figure out what I was missing,
what I was doing wrong,
where I was falling short,
why I wasn’t good enough.
Only to realize,
it wasn’t our time.
It can’t have been our time.
I wasn’t ready.
Maybe you weren’t either,
but I may never know.
Part of me holds onto hope
that someday things can be different,
things can get better,
that we can start over,
and that something can come from it after all.
But reality checks in and says,
“Why?
You’re the one who left.
You’re the one who pushed him away.
You’re the one who ruined everything,
so why would you think
that you could start over?
That things could get better?
That things could be different?
That things could go the way
you wished they had before?”
And I stop,
caught between the chasm of hope
and the whirlwind of despair.
I know I’m not perfect,
but I’d love a second chance.
I know I messed up,
but I’d love to do better.
I know it’s not easy,
but I hope it’s not over.
And if it is,
then it’s time for me to move on,
and so be it.
But if it’s not,
I hope something amazing is yet to come.
Either way,
I’m sorry;
and I hope that, someday,
you can forgive me.