Easier to Say

She said she was sad.

So I said I was sorry.

I’m not sure why I was sorry,

but it seemed the right thing

to say.

Although I don’t think I should

be sorry. I didn’t make her sad.

I didn’t cause her any woe,

yet her eyes are watery, on

the verge of tears.

I’m sorry she’s sad,

from a place of empathy,

a place of sympathy,

a place of not knowing what

else to do.

I understand she’s sad,

I get it. I understand.

Yet I can’t control her sadness

and just have to let it wash over

her. I can’t fix it.

I can only feel sorry.

Sorry she’s sad.

Sorry I’m not making her laugh.

Sorry I’m not making her forget.

Sorry I’m incapable of her expectations.

But Sorry is the wrong word,

an inefficient word since it’s

not used apologetically.

It’s from the compassion for

her misery. But easier to say.

She said she was sad.

I said I was still sorry.

She sighed.

I sighed.