November 12, 1998

Compound Dilemma

Trapped in my own hands
Too late to be in control
Pounding, bitter panic
Feeling crazy, big, and small
Twisting, pacing, nervous and fast
Spinning for hours in sleepless grief
Senseless and overwhelming
So foolish
And soon-to-be-forgotten altogether
Soon-to-be-regret
Regret it already
And hoping that somewhere
She isn't shaking her head
Saying I should have known.