My cheeks are stained with tears and you’re holding my hand close against yours.

I turn away, disgusted with what you said to them and how you didn’t even care.

But now, after everything that happened…your still here with me.

As I stare at the floor I feel your fingers brushing against my skin as you push a strand of hair away from my face.

Every time I look away, you pull me closer, cupping my chin in your hand.

I hate that your still here, as if protecting me from the words you said.

I’m holding my breath, hoping you will leave.

But all you do is stare into my eyes, pleading me to look at you or say something.

I don’t know what to do so I wait until I hear a man call your name.

You don’t even flinch at the sound of your name and just sit beside me.

But by the final call you must leave and before you walk out the doors I hear a quiet whisper, “I’m sorry.”