I’m Sorry Love

I’m sorry—
it was a stupid argument,
born from a truth I kept swallowing
until it learned how to hurt.

I kept telling myself it was okay
that you didn’t love me the way I love you,
kept smiling like acceptance was enough.
But it wasn’t.
I was bleeding quietly
and calling it patience.

I told you I’d go on a date Sunday,
with a boy who isn’t you.
You smiled—
happy, unbothered—
and that smile broke something in me
I didn’t know was still holding.

Later, the air went quiet.
You said, say something to make me laugh.
I don’t even remember why I was angry anymore,
only that it slipped out wrong—
Sorry, you’ve reached your conversation limit for today.
A joke shaped like a wall.
You heard it as rejection.
I meant it as pain.

You repeated it back to me
like a mirror that refuses mercy.
We parted too fast.
I hugged you quickly,
whispered I love you
with a foolish, pouting mouth—
like love could still sneak through
if I made it small enough.

I do love you.
That’s the problem.

You said no one is interested in you
while I was sitting right there,
across the table,
loving you loudly in my silence.
It hurt that you couldn’t see me—
or worse,
that you could
and chose not to.

You won’t go out with me alone,
only with the group.
Like I am safe only
when diluted by others.

I hate that my feelings make you uncomfortable.
I hate wanting you to open up
when you keep everyone
at a careful arm’s length.
I want to spoil you, protect you,
be there—
but you don’t let me in.
You don’t even leave the door unlocked.

God, please be kind to me now.
Every time I think I should let go,
you pull me closer without touching me,
give me just enough hope
to make staying hurt more.

I hate myself
for loving people who don’t love me back.
I want to talk to you,
but you haven’t looked at my messages
for a whole day.
A day feels like proof
that I don’t matter.

I miss you
in a way that feels embarrassing,
like my heart didn’t get the memo
that love is mutual or it is nothing.

Sometimes I think
nobody will ever truly love me.
That love just isn’t meant for me—
even though it’s the only thing
I’ve ever wanted from this life.

And still,
here I am,
loving you quietly,
hoping you’ll turn around,
hoping one day
you’ll see me
sitting right there across the table...

And hoping that it won't be to late for us .

Onnaya