Too Proud To Say I’m Sorry

I can see the crack in your mouth when you try to smile and it won’t quite stay
Hear the way your voice goes thin on my title like it’s planning to walk away
You’re standing in the doorway with a box of your clothes
shaking, waiting for one line
Just one simple “I was wrong
” But that isn’t how I learned to be mine.

My father taught me you never flinch, never fold
never let them see you doubt
Said the first one to say “I’m sorry” is the loser
the weak link, the one they push out
So I stacked my spine with concrete
painted over softer parts with jokes and rage
Now every time I try to speak truth

Pride slams the cage.
I practice it in the mirror at night
Mouth forming the shapes till my jaw goes sore
“I fucked up, please stay, ” But when you’re here
I can’t find that door.

I’m too proud to say I’m sorry
so I watch you pack your life into the car
Hands in my pockets, lies on my tongue
pretending I don’t know how far We fell from what we swore we were building when we shared a bed and believed our own story
I could reach out, pull you back
But I’m chained to my pride.

You list it all, every night I shut you down
every joke I made at your expense
The times you came to me shaking and I shrugged it off like your pain was nonsense
You ask if I ever saw you as more than fuel
I want to say yes
I want to fall at your feet and admit I’ve been a fucking fool.

Instead I say “you’re overreacting
” Because humiliation feels worse than the sound of your keys
I would rather hear the tires roll away Than drop down on my knees
I know what I’m choosing
I know what I lose each time I let this poison steer
But letting you see me weak Still feels like the bigger fear.

Later, in the quiet
when I pour another drink and the room breathes smoke and ghosts
I whisper “I was wrong” to the ceiling
But you’re already gone
And pride still clings in my throat Like the words I never let out.