I'm Sorry

“I’m sorry,” I say,
The words threadbare and tattered,
So worn they start to crumble as they pass my lips.
“I’m here for you, and
I wish I could do more.”
They sound hollow even to my own ears,
Thin and fragile as tissue paper,
But they’re all I have to offer you.
I know they’ll disintegrate when your tears hit them,
But still you accept them with a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.
I watched as your light dimmed, flickered, and died,
A candle snuffed out by a downpour of salt and sinew
As your bones fragmented and fractured under the pressure
That you assured everyone you were handling just fine.
Fine as you faded into a ghost haunting the limbs you used to embody.
Fine as the light left your eyes,
And there was nothing I could do.
I can’t fix it.
I can’t do a single fucking thing
Other than watch as your world goes up in flames,
And I’m not even enough to shield you from their heat.
I’m sorry.
I’m here for you, and
I wish I could do more.