“Some loves become songs because silence could never hold them properly.”
If I could choose a gentler way to reach you, it would sound like a music box opening in a quiet room. Something delicate. Something careful. Something that knows how much tenderness it owes the one it hurt.
I am sorry for the moment when my love stopped sounding like comfort and started sounding like pain. I am sorry for every note that turned sharp when it should have stayed soft. You deserved tenderness from me in every version of the story.
This apology is small only in volume, not in sincerity. It comes from the deepest part of me that still remembers how beautiful we were when love felt easy and safe.