If I had held my tongue
I wouldn't be so troubled by my words
Or be so filled with regret,
Only wondering what could have been.
If I had held my tongue
My words wouldn't be eating me alive right now,
Gnawing and scratching at my throat, my lungs, my brain and mouth and teeth and face and eyes,
Chewing me up and spitting me out only when I am an unrecognizable pile of unsaid apologies and unsent letters.
If I had just held my tongue,
I wouldn't be torturing myself right now, racking my brain in a desperate attempt to find the words to convey this feeling
But all I can think of is
I'm sorry
and
Please don't go.