I'm pretty sure that every
thing I wish
I hadn't said
is long forgot
by every
one
I'd said it to.
Instead,
it spikes anew
in sour juice
and voltage
in my mind,
each time
the whole damn scene
comes back,
and
deepening in time.
And so we forge in life
the chains they'll pry from
our inert remains,
or else they won't.
Since they can't see
what each
misstep
was meant
to be.
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