Sorry, I can’t come.

Sorry, I don’t have time.

Sorry, I just couldn’t.

Not I won’t be there or I hope you have fun.

My capacity is limited, but I will send a gift.

I am overwhelmed.

Not no, but a quiet folding inward,

an RSVP wrapped in guilt.

We don’t say:

I haven’t felt like myself in weeks.

I watched the invitation glow on my screen

and couldn’t move.

We don’t say:

I am tired of being strong

or polite

or fine.

We say sorry —

a word that fits any pocket,

a word so soft

it hides everything inside it.

Sorry, I missed it.

Sorry, I meant to.

Sorry, let’s catch up.

It’s the sorry we have in common.

Not always regret,

but recognition

that we are each

a little frayed

and trying.