You ask me what I’m sorry for as I sob and hide my face.
I’m sure in your eyes there’s no transgression.
But I learned long ago to apologize for my emotions and it’s a hard habit to break.
I’m sorry for being vulnerable.
For not better maintaining a shiny exterior of fun and perfection.
Sorry that I can’t control this.
Sorry that I’ve let you see me this way.
Sorry that I feel the need to use apologies as buffers
As a safeguard
As a way to abolish the guilt that follows me around like a shadow.
And I’m sorry even for this apology
Which begs you to stay when you had no intention of leaving in the first place.