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  • dearabi

I'm Sorry.

I'm sorry I didn't love you.

Touch you. Kiss you.

Hug you.

The way you wanted, the way you deserved.

I wanted to so bad, but not all of me was in it.

I wanted to so bad, but I just couldn't feel it.

The parts that should've burned felt tepid to touch,

and the arguments put out the flames every time there was a spark of hope.

You were out of line. I was in my head. You weren't in me. Then, you were out the door.

But I just loved you so much. Too much.

So much that I continued to be in a relationship with your potential. Our potential.

Until the peace was replaced with resentment and the hope was replaced with unfulfillment.

And I'm sorry for doing that too.

I thought it would happen. I waited for it to happen. I really thought it would happen.


I'm sorry I didn't love you.

Stroke you. Breathe you.

Feel you.

Wrap my mouth around you.

The way I should've wanted to.

You must've felt so dejected, having been rejected so many times without me even realizing what I was doing by not doing anything at all.

Because you weren't any less handsome. Or funny. Or charming. Or sexy.

And I wasn't any less in love with you.

I just couldn't make as much love to you.

And as much as it killed you, it killed me too.

To miss the mark by a thousand miles just inches away from each other.

I never told you why, because I didn't know.

I just know that I'm so sorry.

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