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I want you to know I'm sorry.
I never thought about how much I have to be sorry for until I was up all night and far too early in the morning from a Thursday to a Friday, and couldn't fall asleep because my heart was hammering and thundering and seizing with a regret sort of panic. I called you across six hundred and eighty three miles and an ocean of guilt and whispered I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry a thousand times into the receiver until I had no voice and you were saying my name through an accent of sleep and telling me I have nothing to be sorry about. But I do.
I'm sorry I didn't write you the most beautiful love song in the world. I'm sorry my fingers can't play the guitar to bring cities to colour and do better by you even though that's what you deserve. I'm sorry I can only play four-string chords and sing too softly for you to hear over the guitar. I have clumsy fingers and bashful vocal chords and an ineloquent tongue but I promise that every beat of this heart is for you, and if I could put it to music and lyrics I'd be singing you the most soul-wrenching and breaking and putting-back-together song you've ever heard, because you have broken me into pieces and put me back together to a whole I never knew I was.
I'm sorry I'm not there for our goodnights. I'm sorry I don't kiss your eyelids asleep and run my thumbs over your hipbones and fall asleep with your head tucked against my clavicle. I'm sorry I don't whispersing you lullabies until your breathing evens and you drift off, and I'm sorry I don't bang my kneecaps into yours and fight with you for the blanket and sheets during the middle of the night. I'm caught in a twin-sized bed that's four state lines away and leaving extra space on my mattress in case you appear in my dreams, but I promise if you come I'll run my fingers through your hair all night and not be able to sleep for an instant because I'll be too busy falling in love with the way our bones fold into each other and your pulse seems to melt into mine.
I'm sorry I don't know your habits. I'm sorry I don't know if you arch your back and stretch in the morning and if you drink your water out of a mug or a glass, if you hum to yourself while you accidentally burn the underside of your omlette and if you'll walk around our home wearing one of my dress shirts first thing in the morning because you want to be refined even when you're not wearing pants and you secretly just like the way it smells like me smelling like Old Spice. I'm stuck here in the mornings cracking my knuckles and slurping cold water out of an oversized mug and walking around barefoot in the wintertime wondering if you'll let me grab you by the waist and breathe goodmorning into your skin before I've brushed my teeth, but I promise one day we'll find out and I can bring two mugs of water to bed in the morning.
I'm sorry I have so much to learn. I'm sorry we fit together but haven't smoothed out our edges yet. I'm sorry I don't know you as well as I should after this whirlwind lifetime, but I promise I'm giving you my heart and soul and all my years to make up for all my sorry moments, to pull us apart and put us back together, to feel my life and yours melt into ours. And maybe one day, I won't have to be sorry.
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本帖Z后由 S笑靥如花 于 2010-5-18 11:18 编辑 ]
