I’m sorry I’m so vulnerable:
That I want to dream of white picket fences
Before we’ve ever held hands
That I oscillate from hot to cold
Hoping that my indecision will average my passion and fear
Into normal, acceptable, warmth.
I’m sorry that I hide my insecurity
In these sort of incomplete apologies.
Incomplete because I’m sorry most of all:
Of all the shits I give but fear to show you.
I’m sorry that you might never meet someone as ready for
Deep, meaningful, jolting connections
As this rambling fool.
I’m sorry that this baseless fear and anxiety
Ends our tug of war duel
Before it has even begun
And I cheer weakly holding both ends of rope
As if there’s something I’ve won.
In my solitude I apologize
For ever thinking that being genuine,
Crying, feeling, dreaming was a
Valid reason to feel shame.
So, sorry. That I’m sorry.