I knew I was already wrong the moment I said that. But I can’t take it back. That’s the tragedy of speaking too soon, the folly of wanting to hurt you first before you can hurt me. Can a poem heal all wounds?
I never meant the words I said,
So trouble not your honest head
And never mean the words I write,
But come and kiss me now goodnight.
The words I said break with the thunder
Of billows surging into spray:
Unfathomed depths withhold the wonder
Of all the words I never say.