Too Late. A poem.

How could you say the things you did?
And how could I respond in kind?

Every bitter reproach
Like a roadmap of our pain
Every recrimination
Like a hammer to my brain
Holding back the tears
Letting emotion and volume have their way
Where logic would have saved the day
Two mules head butting
Unable to back down
Two recalcitrants enabled

In the aftermath
When all is said and done
When acrid smoke rises from the craters of regret
Realising you can’t take back what was said
And you wish you never had
But it’s too late
Far too late for that

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

Powered by WordPress.com.

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: