I'm sorry

I'm sorry I have
This disease.
But it's not contagious, don't worry.
You keep your distance, and I guess I can see where you're coming from. I can kind of understand why you wouldn't want to be around me, at least while I have
This disease.

I'm sorry I'm not
the same anymore.
But someday it might go away.
You can see my face light up at the sight of you, and you see my hands and knees trembling. You see my eyes glisten and you know why things between us aren't
the same anymore.

I'm sorry
you don't feel the same.
But when I think about it, I'm kind of glad you aren't as sick.
People get along much better when they are both afflicted, but it also means that neither can nurse the other. So maybe I really am happy that
you don't feel the same.

I'm sorry I can't hide
my disease.
But if it gets any worse, I'll quarantine myself.
Because there are no doctors who can prescribe, no apothecaries to cure such a petrifying malady. So please be patient as I bear through
my disease.

I hear it's only fatal sometimes.