Acid on My Tongue

The words I didn’t say

weren’t dancing on my tongue—

they were acid,

burning me from the inside out.

If I had let them go,

they would have scorched my skin

with a pain too tender

to live in plain view.

But God,

how I wish I had said them—

to feel that pain then,

instead of the ache I carry now.

Regret is heavier,

stronger,

with this acid-burned mouth.

And now,

I scream the words

into the void

where your arms should have been.

You should have held my hand.

And I—

I should have said

the words

that burned my mouth.