So many things

So many things

You wish you hadn’t said

Nothing addles the brain

More than this

There are no scholars

Who can tell you how to unsay

What has been dispatched

Words are for all time

The ache in your heart

When you are alone

And only remember

The harsh words

That were never meant to be

When all you should have said

Remains stuck in your head

Twisted in knots

Tied to the pain

Of rumination

Grief is a long day

So much colder

Than the scholars say

Until they too are bereft

And finally, grasp

How lazy metaphors

Are as shallow

As the pond Narcissus

Gazed into

How he might have wished

For a different conclusion

About the nature of love.

Still, he was cursed

And without the benefit

Of hindsight

He found nothing but an echo

Of his true self to hold

As he fell

In and out of love

With a sad reflection

And the flowering

Of his name.