# I spelled love the wrong way

I’m sorry I walked too many steps out the door before I looked back and said,
“Honey, I’ll be home for dinner tonight.”
And I’m sorry I never meant it.

I’m sorry the lasagne grew too cold
And the custard froze,
I’m sorry the bell never rang
the mattress, still spick and span.
I’m sorry the house feels too empty,
And the bed, so alone.
I’m sorry that I don’t call it
Home anymore.

I’m sorry we became regular gossip for the office staff,
And that you saw stains on my shirt collars.
I’m sorry I stopped wearing the perfume you gifted me on our 3rd anniversary,
I’m sorry they called you weak for loving me,
I sorry that I thought you were too.

Im sorry for all the nights I let you rot in worry,
And never came back.
Im sorry I didn’t think twice,
Before leaving you.

I’m sorry I smelled more of whiskey,
Than the linen bedsheets we got for our wedding,
And I’m sorry the smell never went away.

I’m sorry I never gave you the diamond necklace I got for you on your birthday.
I’m sorry for thinking it’ll look more beautiful on her.
I’m sorry I stopped complimenting you when you wore those chiffon sarees.
I’m sorry I stopped noticing.

I’m sorry for never drinking the tea that you made for me,
for thinking that I’d like coffee more.
I’m sorry that I couldn’t stay in your…
our bedroom longer than you could count till 3.
I’m sorry that leaving to me, feels like routine.

I’m sorry I never wore the shirt you loved so much,
Or the watch you gifted me on my birthday.
I’m sorry I never locked the doors at night,
Or called to check up on you.

I’m sorry I gave you all those tears
Without a shoulder to cry on.
I’m sorry that I gave you all those scars
And let you walk so naked on these roads.
I’m sorry they still whisper when you go out to buy groceries
And I’m sorry for being why.

I’m sorry for looking a lot like someone who has been hurt more than he has hurt.
I’m sorry for looking so god damn broken,
And for making you love me despite all that I did.
I’m sorry that when I said love, I didn’t mean it.

I’m sorry that this poem sounds a lot like my footsteps out the door,
And I’m sorry that this time, I don’t look back to say, “Honey, I’ll be home.”

_i spelled love the wrong way