A Walk in the Sun

by Justine C. Tajonera

I don't know why
I couldn't have just
told you
that I didn't want
to walk
in the scorching
sun.

Why I saved my words
so that I could
throw them at
you like so
many flaming
arrows
escapes
me.

I can imagine
what it might have been
like if I had
saved you
the trouble.

But truly,
I relished my
smoldering silence
and expected you
to suffer the
heat of your
guilt.

I cannot undo
the burn.
Here is
my poor attempt
at a balm:

I lay down
my arms.
I'm tired of
my fevered struggle
to be
right.

 for Vier
(April 1, 2010)
 Image from http://www.flickr.com/photos/jimdollar/1696429634/