If it so often starts with sorry, how can you tell it’s true? Does he mean it when he mumbles, “Sorry, babe,” and “I love you.”
It’s never quite a fight, but there are still the heartless looks. You’re never on the same page, or maybe you’re reading different books.
He stays out later every night, but then again, so do you. Let drinks chase problems you can’t pin down. What else is there to do?
Drunk and crying, alone in bed, when he unlocks the door. His drinking makes him sweet as hell, and you only miss him more.
A sloppy kiss on your shoulder and a hard one to your lips. You choke back the tears and take the love that you can get.
Anyone can see, it’s just a cycle without an end. So tonight when he says “I love you,” you do your best to soak it in.
Because tomorrow you’ll both wake up different than tonight. Back to empty heartache, back to the silent fights.
All the memories of before, of all the happier times. They rush back with his touch and rob your anger blind.
Morning delivers saddened smiles; you leave alone as you came. For the hundredth time, you realize that it will never be the same.
Then like clockwork, the role of lovers returns at night. The darkness masks the distance, and you pretend that you’re all right.
But the tears will finally defeat you, and you can’t help but ask… Why is “sorry” first and “I love you” is last?