Now, Before, and Later

I'm not good at sorrys.

Never have been.

Probably never will be.

But I am.

Sorry, that is.

Sorry that I'm hard to handle.

Sorry that I have a bad temper.

Sorry that I take it out on you.

And I'm really, so very sorry that I hurt you.

But most importantly,

I'm sorry that I'm bad at saying sorry.

You deserve more than this –

an actual apology,

but I don't know how.

I'm sorry.

That this isn't the first time

that this has happened.

That this won't be the last time

that it happens.

I'm still sorry for the past

and already sorry for the future.

But I'll still say it.

I'm sorry.

I can't promise much.

Almost nothing, really.

But I can promise you this:

I'll try my best to say I'm sorry,

in one way or another –

every time I'm stupid

and hotheaded:

every time you're around

and even when you're not,

every time I take it out on you

and the times that I don't,

every time I think I hurt you

and even if I don't.

Every time I'm really mad at myself

and you're just trying to help

or you just don't know.

It might be easier to say

I'll just be sorry every time.

Because you're important to me

even when I'm stupid

and act like you're not.

You are.

One of the most important people to me.

I love you.

Even when I'm stupid

and mad

and not around

and being a jerk.

That's why I'll keep saying I'm sorry

and hope for forgiveness

and ask for it when it's really bad.

Because you never deserve it,

me being mad,

ever.

But I deserve you

being mad at me

all the time.

But you're not.

And I love you.

And I'm sorry.

Megan Parmarter

For C. Purslow