The realisation is slow.

But heavy like lead.

The acid on my tongue rises slowly.

Burning my head.

Like chewing ash. Like swallowing glass.

The poison tipped dagger.

Will the pain pass?

The anger. Denial.

So much pain.

Yet all awhile…

I think of what could have been.

Your fault? Mine?

What would be worse?

Yet all awhile…

I put you first.