Between Bruises & Blooms

I owe you an apology.

Not because I cared.

Not because I spoke
when I thought people
needed to know.

But because somewhere
between fear
and trying to protect everyone,

I forgot
that you were scared too.

I remember
the questions.

The long phone calls.

The messages
that got heavier
with every reply.

I remember saying,
“I don’t want my name brought into it.”

You heard,

“I don’t trust you.”

Maybe those aren’t
the same sentence.

Maybe they never were.

You kept asking
for more pieces.

I kept trying
to pull myself
out of the picture.

Until eventually

we weren’t talking
about the same thing anymore.

You were fighting
for someone you loved.

I was trying
to protect myself.

Neither of us
was trying
to hurt the other.

But somehow

we both left bleeding.

I’ve replayed
that conversation
more times
than I can count.

Not because I regret
caring.

But because I regret
how quickly
we stopped hearing
each other.

You ended that conversation
telling me
you loved me.

I don’t know
if I said it
well enough back.

So let me say it now.

I’m sorry
for the parts
where fear
spoke louder
than friendship.

I’m sorry
for every sentence
that sounded
like a wall
when I meant it
as a boundary.

And if I could change
one thing,

it wouldn’t be
that we disagreed.

It would be
that we remembered

we were sisters

long before
we were standing
on opposite sides
of the same storm.