I don’t like what you say. Or at least the thing
I thought you were going to say
because you didn’t like what
I never should have said.
And if you ever wanted
(more)
the chance to say
and be heard,
you should’ve
chose better
when the
world
was easy.
When she was easy.
When she was
easy.
But easy
is no answer
when the aim is
to scream—to shout
loud amidst the loudness,
amidst the growing throng
of voices blowing hard to sail
the ship against a stagnant tide.
So I’ll keep on, not liking the thing
you swear you never got the chance
to say. Because we both know it’s already
been heard, a word in the discourse gone stale.
(less)