I'm sorry, I failed
in loving you the way you deserved.
You were never told your worth;
your beauty, your intelligence, yourself,
by the one person you needed to hear
about it from— yourself.
I'm sorry, I failed
in giving you the attention you needed.
There have been dark days, devoid of light,
and I blamed you then, for what was never your harm.
I'm sorry, I failed
in carrying the pretense of being fine, while reaffirming
you of the same.
There's so much anger and melancholy seated in me,
and it's taken a toll on you.
I'm sorry, I failed
to ever tell you that you're beautiful, inside out,
regardless of what those fools told you, instead of
simply believing every word they said.
I'm sorry, I failed
to reiterate the worth of you and your loving soul.
You didn't need to create new versions of yourself
just to prove yourself worthy of love.
I'm sorry, I failed
to tell you that I love you. I'm even more sorry that
I can't say it still, without lying.
You deserved better, but alas,
you can't leave me, because you're me.