To Be Determined

|l'esprit de l'escalier|

These words feel like thorns on my tongue-
like stones against my teeth, crashing again
and again until the bones break in my mouth and
fall from my lips in a crimson cascade. I
watch them swirl in the pavement like crows
in the clouds. They squawk just the same

in this still air that still weighs heavy, that
presses against my back and chest and arms and
legs until moving is but a dream as nimble as
a feather drifting along the wind. Why must
love hurt the one who gives. The one who
takes. The one who feels. The one who
doesn't. Why must live be so unforgiving

to all those involved. Coming and going and
coming and going. Alas, I have no
answers - only questions and all the words I
never gave away:

I hate you. You hurt me. Your laugh still rings
in my ears. Even a spoonful of lemon
meringue pie makes me sick. I'm not used to
the bed feeling so big. I miss you. I love you.