Apologizing Is What I Do Best

It’s nearly midnight, and I’m still awake,
just sitting in the dark, reviewing the tapes
in my mind, trying to figure out, where did we go wrong, now?
I know fairy tales don’t exist, but I thought we were stronger

than any external forces that could try to pull us apart.
Then again, I guess it’s us that tears at each other’s heart.
It’s like we’re boxers, mixed martial arts, but we battle with words,
There’s so much damage we withstand but now we’re feeling the burn.

The after effects of anger seem to sting more than the initial blows
as doubts creep into my mind, screaming, seeping through the walls
of my defiance, your brazen hits bounce off my heart, into my head
and I find myself second guessing anything you’ve ever said,
Like, “Oh, you love me?” Or maybe you don’t want to be alone,

because companionship is company, your personal safety zone.
But that’s not likely, unless you’re just a glutton for remorse.
Not a single soul would stay without the shackles known as “love”.

See, I never imagined that I could ever call someone like you my own
And I never imagined that love like this could be so damn hard.
You’re my forever; when I look to the future, all I see is you and me
but we’ll never make it if we can’t set aside our pride; a sacrifice
I’ll make, if you’ll make, but it seems that’s where we hit a wall.
Apologizing seems to be what I do best, but lately the words just fall flat

because they’ve all been said a thousand times before, with fingers crossed behind my back
but I have learned that it’s what makes you feel like you’ve got the upper hand
to have me groveling on hands and knees, but it’s getting harder to pretend.
And then your anger, like a flash of light, will suddenly diffuse,

and I am left with my head spinning, waiting for the next monsoon.

So here I’m sitting, it’s nearly one and I am still awake, alone,
and I know you know I’ll be here when you come home, cuz you’re my home.