I’m sorry

I’m sorry that I wasn’t the rings to your Saturn,

because Saturn had cracked into two;

I’m sorry that I slipped salt into your sugar,

yet your sugar was bitter, I cried too.

I’m sorry that you never learned to care,

I regret having called you the truth;

and I’m sorry that you lie like I’m just a memory

I would have lied if I said I always knew.

I’m sorry that everything I say doesn’t matter,

like I never mattered to you;

I’m sorry that I loved, that I hurt, that I cared,

I was Icarus, you’re the sun, and I flew.

I’m sorry I clung onto you by the fringes,

you were two pieces and I was the glue;

and I’m truly very sorry that I was ever me,

I’m sorry I’m a teenager too.