“I’m always doing the bothering,”
Fear lied.

You played the victim like a light bulb
Calling itself a flame.

I self-soothed,
as a dog licks his paw after a stick splinters his tongue.
What’s supposed to be play has turned tear.

Today, I felt like a message never sent:
Stuck in the in-between.

Do I go forward or become a missed chance?
Fault is inclined to the wrong side.
I caught it and stumbled.

Why can’t I say it out loud?
Are the details so intricate, so cruel that no words will suffice?
Footsteps are always the response.
Left awake with the burr of
the oscillating fan reminds me:
Transparency doesn’t lend itself to empathy

A twisted tongue, fumble-y fingers, a dropped gaze,
The knock never returned.

I never want to come back here again.