Snapping an ankle is pain.
The shock of your bones turning alienistic
the pop of a ligament
the jolt of pain that brightens the sun’s light
and turns vision into a graphic novel

hurts

Remembering my regret is pain

The veil of anger I used to avoid the truth
the ways I distorted my feelings
the years of what-if
letting self-confidence become
a lost friend

I’m over you

But the regret and memory hang in
my brain waxing and waning
tugging on my emotions
flooding my soul with a foamy fluid sadness
that drowns my nerves

If I could rub my hands across a golden
lamp and meet a genie I would ask
for a pencil eraser that could correct
there, their, they’re, and the thought of
you and I.