Don't Say Something You'll Regret


Such a defensive reply to easily
the shortest email I've ever sent.
A few lines clicked off hastily
a breath or two after you left
then I pressed send, unhappily.

I pondered slow your quick reply
to wisely choose the words I send
-- nothing I'll regret? and I
believe the words that really tend
to be regrettable are those that lie
dormant on my tongue and then

they gag me with the need to be
released, to fly upon the wind,
freed from jaw clenched captivity
where wisdom wisely holds them in,
eroding tastebuds with acidity

The words are not of anger born
but from the years of sad regret
that with the dawning of each morn
The heart refuses to forget
and memories cannot be torn
from the soul where they are etched

Regrettable, the words tossed high
to God, that he might hear my pleas
"Oh Lord of all the earth and sky,
Please grant to me a sweet release
from this hellish pain," but I
know that He will only ease
it 'til the words that ever lie
silenced on my tongue are free,
in jigsaw puzzle phrases I
have put together perfectly
that you might clearly hear the cry
and understand it ... finally.

"Don't say something you'll regret"
Your defensive reply to easily
the shortest email I've ever sent,
a few lines clicked off hastily
a breath or two after you left

And I shall silence my reply,
unsaid but unforgettable,
and piece together phrases, I
have found yet unattainable,
from the words that hide behind
a silence, still unbreakable.
Those are the only words that I
will ever find regrettable