Friday, August 17, 2012

Regret

BY JULIE CHEN

My tongue is tied.
Somewhere on Earth, someone
Is smiling but
Not I.

My bed’s been empty.
I stare at a spot on the
Wall until I’m mesmerized by
green and pink flowers blooming
in my vision.
I sit.
Repulsive tsunamis of coffee rolling
In my stomach and
Crashing onto my chest, but
Supporting my leaden eyelids as I struggle to
Stay awake.
Let me suffer in peace as I
Dive into flashing oceans of memory
And replay them over

And over

And over

Imagining I could rein in words that
Are now escaping stray in
The wind.

An eruption from my
Mouth spewed articulate ashes that
have scarred you.
Acrid lava coated my throat as I choked on
scalding words, mistakes of my
tectonic plates of intention.
I wish
to inhale back smoke that
Suffocates your sky—
Even if it stains my galaxy.

Time is going by.
Somewhere on Earth, somebody’s
Moving on but
Not I.

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