The arrows accumulate
reaching the reel of regret.
Creviced and cauterized
the tears I’d held back
now entwined
in the tarot of truth.
All my “would have’s and
should have’s, “all I’d need say,
forsaken by pride’s interception.
I heard you recovered, moving
on from my stark disappearance.
But etching the marrow
carves the sting that I’ll wear,
knowing how deeply I hurt you.
Painting Courtesy: Pain by Orhan Can
