And what I didn’t say haunts me
What I did say does haunt me.
I’ll never be soft again.
I’ll be with claws, sharp teeth,
and sharp eyes
that scream “don’t go near me.”
In my next life,
I will say those words.
But I won’t.
What I didn’t say haunts me.
What I did say does.
Perhaps I will be soft
with a gentle smile and eyes.
Smooth skin, no nails
that roars unhappiness.
What I did say does haunt me.
What I didn’t say haunts me.
Photo Credit: H o l l y. Flickr via Compfight cc
