Committed

I knew it yesterday

and I know it today.

Knew it in my chest,

in the way I couldn't rest,

in the email drafted

and deleted and drafted again,

my finger on send

like it was a sin.

But I sent it.

Hit send knowing the words were bent,

knowing I'd crossed a line

I couldn't uncross, couldn't unwind,

knowing the other side

would cost more than I could pay,

than I wanted to pay anyway.

I'm committed now.

That's what they call it

when you mean trapped,

when you mean you chose

and now the choice

is choosing you,

is pulling you forward

into the shape of it,

into the thing you'll defend

even though you never believed

in it.

I keep saying I'll fix it,

that there's still time,

still a way

to take it back,

to make it rhyme

with who I wanted to be.

But I know better.

Knew better.

And I'm still moving forward anyway,

still pretending wrong can turn to right

if I just stay in sight

of the direction long enough.

The line is behind me.

I'm too far gone

to turn around,

too committed

to the mistake

to admit it.