I’m still learning how to stop apologizing
for all that I am; I wear my skin like a blanket
that’s never been able to keep you warm enough
and Mom always used to say if you stay out in
the cold, you’re gonna get sick, I don’t want you
getting sick, please, don’t get sick of me.
I’m wearing out my I’m sorry’s like my
dignity’s on clearance but please hear me, they’ve
got me mislabeled. I’m not trying to sell anything, I’m
just trying to keep you around. And I know that the sound
of the same syllables over and over can become like your
favorite melody ruined by your alarm clock telling you to
wake up to nothing ever changing, but I’m trying,
and I’m afraid of what happens
when the music stops playing.
I hope my I love you’s never stop making
your heartbeat do pirouettes along your ribcage.
I hope my sadness doesn’t replace my name
on your Caller ID, I hope that you remember that
this isn’t me, that my genetics fell on a fault line and
my happiness fluctuates on the days of the week, but I
still love you with every tremor in every earthquake of my
universe. I love you when I go away; when I am nothing
but tired eyes and chapped lips and empty, and empty, when I
force you to cradle my missed calls against your cheek because
I’ve adopted an impediment in positive speech, I’m sorry. I’m
sorry that we had to drive back to the house on Tuesday when I
forgot to take my pills, and I’m sorry that I’m not up for going out
tomorrow, I’m sorry that my mind wanders sometimes when you
tell me about your day, I- I do want to hear about your day,
I am.. so sorry
and yeah, I’m still learning how
to stop apologizing, baby, but I still love you, so hard.
Mainly, I’m just –
mainly, I’m just sorry
for being selfish enough to ask you to stay.
Reblogged from theseoverusedwords
"Why Your Depressed Lover Keeps Saying Sorry" -Valentina Thompson (via theseoverusedwords)
Sitting here crying because of this at 6 a.m
This is the most accurate thing I’ve ever read.
OH MY GOD.
I loved you for the cold wind that sang inside of you. It was something otherworldly, being inside of that tornado but never quite being touched by the fury. I was your One Thing, I was your holy and your special and the flower you left untouched in the meadow. You were soft around me, you were suddenly shy, you were quiet rain - and I loved that. I loved being your heart.
I should have never trusted myself to the storm. I should have known. I should have gone home."
Reblogged from inkskinned
Reblogged from fuckyeahstvincent