Unsent

That song,

a scratchy B-side,

from a time that’s gone,

on the radio, low.

Only you ever played it,

a secret thing, I know.

And it hit me then,

the sharp, cold truth,

that I owe you words

from my foolish youth.

A moment I seized,

a careless, cutting phrase,

I let it hang between us

through too many days.

Now the silence is solid,

a stone in the ground,

and the apology,

it makes no sound.

The static crackles,

the feeling lingers,

my heart still clenches

between my fingers.