for the first time while you were sleeping.
I was aware of your beauty,
unaware that it is a prize
only given, not received.
Only held if believed.
I'm sorry I walked past you too quickly,
as if I cared more about catching
the eastern time zone than catching you.
It wasn't true.
I'm sorry I told you I liked you
without first telling you I also like
swinging in a hammock when the crocuses are opening
the feeling of glaciers between my fingers
the rush of pine and the musk of deer.
These likes are not alike.
I'm sorry I wasn't clear.
I'm sorry I put you away in a shoebox
while your handwriting still hung on my wall.
I'm sorry you made the call and took the fall
while I drank tea without honey
watching you from the fifth floor.
I thought it meant I could see.
It wasn't me.
I'm sorry sometimes I don't listen
because my eyes are more focused on your lips
than are my ears.
My hands are too focused on your hips
my fingertips too far from your tears
my mouth too closed to draw you near.
I'm sorry for the humanity
you see in me.
But I don't mind apologizing
for eternity.
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