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Hey, Babe, 

I’m sorry that I am not 6’2

   With tattoos

I’m sorry that I have nothing to lose 

   I’m sorry for the people that I chose 

I’m sorry that I don’t have muscles 

  And I’m sorry that I make fucked up jokes

I’m sorry that I can’t sing

   Or afford a ring

Or that I spent my twenties fighting myself in a ring

  I’m sorry I am afraid of love

I’m sorry that I argue for the big guy above

 And I’m sorry that I argue against him

I’m sorry for all of my sins

   I’m sorry that I don’t forgive

I’m sorry that I fucked so many women before you

  I’m sorry for my lies

And I am sorry for my truths

   I’m sorry that I can’t afford a vacation

And I am sorry for all the masterbation

   I’m sorry that I am broke

I’m sorry that I still have hope

   I’m sorry that I don’t need you

I’m sorry for never being wrong

  And I am sorry for my bong

I’m sorry that I like alcohol 

  I’m sorry that don’t pick up when you call

I’m sorry that I started to rhyme

   And I’m sorry for writing a book about time

I’m sorry when I steal your shine

   I’m sorry that I get lost in my mind

I’m sorry that I don’t care about you anymore 

   I am sorry that I don’t want more

I’m sorry for this war

   I’m sorry that I left you in the rain

And I’m sorry for the pain

. . .

I’m sorry that you think this is about you

      It's not

I wrote this two days before I blew you off again

   Maybe this was one of those self-fulling prophecies

   Or maybe a part of me already knew we weren't meant to be


   So, I guess that I’m sorry that this apology isn't for you 



   I’m just sorry that I am not 6’2 with tattoos 

CH 12/28/23

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This reminds me of the poem Julia Stiles reads to Health Ledger in 10 Things I Hate About You

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