You said sorry like it cost you nothin’,
Rolled off your tongue so smooth, so sudden.
But your hands stayed idle, your habits stayed loud,
And I watched you disappear behind that same old cloud.
You called me “dramatic,” said I live in the past,
But healing takes time—and you moved too fast.
Your lips confessed sins your heart never felt,
Like rehearsed lines in a play where no truth was dealt.
You whispered regrets as if that made it right,
But still came home late, still picked that fight.
Still left me on read, still closed every door,
Still made me feel small, like I should ask for more.
You apologized with your mouth—so polite, so clean,
But your actions? Baby, they stayed mean.
Like petals with thorns you handed me pain,
Said the words I craved, but kept playing the game.
You can't plant bombs and promise me peace,
Can't cheat me with charm, then say love doesn’t cease.
You can’t wound me on Tuesday, cry sorry on Wednesday,
Then do it again that same damn Thursday.
I’m not the girl who clings to “maybe he’ll change,”
Not the woman who waits while you rearrange.
Your “sorry” means nothing without shift, without care—
Without effort behind it, it just hangs in the air.
So here’s what I’ll do, now that I see clear:
I’ll take back my love, and reclaim every tear.
I’ll walk away tall, without slamming the door,
‘Cause I deserve a “sorry” that shows up more.
Not one that’s whispered when you fear I’ll leave,
But one that’s alive in the way that you treat me.
Next time you say it, remember this faction:
Apologies live best in consistent action.
