I’m sorry for saying “I love you”
in a Walmart parking lot.
I’m sorry for the way I looked
at you in a way in
which I threatened you to kiss me.
I’m sorry for all the gas money spent
on sitting in your car exchanging
kisses on our foreheads, hands
and noses. I’m sorry for leaving
out the smiley faces in my texts.
the bitter truth is that I hate your
blue eyes and sensitivity
to the sun and romantic affection.
the bitter truth is that your mother
is your sunshine and
your father says you’re not a real man.
the bitter truth is that you say
you’ve got your life
figured out but you regret kissing
me in a Walmart parking lot.