The Manifesto I've Dreaded To Write
I’m sorry I never fit inside the rooms you gave me.
The walls bent inward,
doors swelled shut,
and I mistook silence for safety.
I’m sorry —
I’m sorry for every quiet collapse you never saw,
for the teeth I swallowed instead of words,
for becoming a stranger in the house you built.
I’m sorry —
I’m sorry for leaving them in the dark,
for the sharp edges I handed them as toys,
for not learning softness soon enough.
I’m sorry —
I’m sorry for being her doubted light,
for suspecting every kindness, as undeserved as may be,
for ever thinking her hands could be knives
when they only ever stitched me back together.
At least you have the leather cut by my own unsteady hands,
and the thread pulled through skin and paper.
Every seam knows my fingerprints,
every sheet carries the tremor of being chosen.
Your words fall into them
like rain into cupped palms —
I hold them,
ink-wet and breathing,
long after you’ve left the room.
I’m sorry for the mirrors I broke on purpose,
so I wouldn’t have to see the face
I already hated.
I’m sorry for the jars I hid underground —
breaths I never let go of,
fragments of days I left unlived,
songs I hummed only to the dark.
I’m sorry I never knew how to hold quiet without smothering it.
I’m sorry I never knew how to hold noise without flinching.
I’m sorry for every time I confused love with survival.
For staying in wreckage,
because leaving felt worse than burning.
I’m sorry I called myself stupid before anyone else could.
I’m sorry I rehearsed unworthiness so often
it became a prayer.
I’m sorry for falling in love with character,
for clutching uniqueness like a life raft,
for mistaking rescue for belonging.
I’m sorry for the softness that terrifies me —
for flinching at gentle hands,
because storms were the only language I learned.
I’m sorry for being unreasonable,
for knowing it,
and still not knowing how to stop.
I’m sorry for every apology
that feels like an exit.
I’m sorry for how often
I’ve written my own ending in my head.
I’m sorry this sounds like goodbye.
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