Just Words

I have no more tears to shed,
The well run dry.
I cannot cry
My shame ever again.

My condemnation is all spent:
I hung my head,
Heard what was said.
What’s left? Except repent.

The right judgment still may remain.
You won’t forget
That you’re upset;
I wish to ease your pain.

But I know my wish is just absurd–
My bed is made,
And I have laid
Myself down in the hurt.

What’s left? The strain,
The rift, the pain, and
Beyond silence:
Just words.

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