I messed up.
Not once, not twice.
But over and over
in ways I didn’t even see
until you were gone.
I blamed the world
the stress
the illness
the weight
the timing
but I never looked long enough
at the man in the mirror.
I should’ve listened
when your silence got louder
should’ve reached for you
instead of retreating inside myself
and calling it survival.
You gave me grace
and I wasted it.
You asked for honesty
and I gave you fragments
because I was scared
you’d leave if you saw the whole mess.
I didn’t tell you I was hurting.
I didn’t tell you I was scared.
I didn’t tell you my body
was shutting down
before my heart ever did.
And when you needed strength,
I gave you absence.
When you needed warmth,
I gave you confusion.
When you needed a man,
you got a ghost.
I see that now.
So if you’re wondering
whether I ever loved you—
the answer is yes.
Still yes.
Always yes.
But love without action
without accountability
without presence
hurts more than hate.
And I did that to you.
I see it.
I own it.
And I’m sorry
from every place in me
that didn’t speak up when it mattered most.
I hope someday you feel peace
even if it’s not with me.
But if this poem finds you,
I hope you know
this man—
finally—
gets it.