"I'm Sorry"

Type thirteen letters then erase and re-begin. 
Type the same letters again and again.
Delete em’ all once more and take it from the top.
Type thirteen letters then stop.

I just heard a text message come from my phone.  Did you know I still hold hope that it could be you saying, “hello”?  It doesn't make a lot of sense for me to hope when it's been 18 months since you told me you'd call even though I was on the other end of that line yelling, “No, don't!” 

“Don't call me.  Don't text.  You think you know me?  You don't.”  I was stupid and young, but mostly dumb.  I didn't know how I could love you when I couldn't even love myself.  
I said you were clueless plenty of different times, but at the same time over on your side you were already calling Freddie-Leigh, me, “mine.” 

I was stupid and young, but mostly dumb.  I wanted to say that twice so you'd remember and not forget, so when I bring up being panicked and deciding to jump ship you might understand that it wasn't what I wanted to do, but rather all I knew.

I have to admit that there's something I've wanted to tell you since the day we met.  I knew it that moment, and in every interaction since.  I knew it when you hugged me at the bowling alley and then again after you accounted for me being a half hour tardy.  
Fun fact!  Do you remember the first time I ever messaged you?  I said, “Fun fact bears can climb faster than they can run.” I remember because I thought long and hard about what’d I’d say to you. Didn’t want to mess it up too soon and leave what I knew could be true in ruins, and then what happened?

We became friends. We took everything so slow, which was great because we were both young and needed to grow, but I became restless and said “Let’s get this show on the road!”  I dropped the ball.  I built a wall.  I said “No, don’t call.”

Remember a few stanzas back when I mentioned there was something I had known in the past? What I meant is that from day one I knew that I might want to spend the rest of my life in love with you, but I'm a scaredy cat and didn't think I'd ever be able to tell you that, so I cut off the head of our relationship with one swift swing of an axe.  

Now I feel like what we had resembles that headless chicken Pat talked about at camp.  I've been holding on to something that should have been tossed months ago, but like that guy feeding his chicken with a dropper I just can't seem to let “us” go.  I probably don't even know who you are anymore, but dragging around the thought of who we could be is making my heart sore, so this chicken either needs die or see a doctor.

Now, there's probably a box with a key that we can shove all this in and then lock. Call it a case closed, but I'll say it again, I hold hope.  I'm not saying take me back and pretend everything's okay.  I'm not even saying I’d want it to go that way, but as hard as I try I just can't make the past change, so all I want to say is thirteen letters and then it's your play. 

Please, I'm sorry. ​