Déjà Vu

I wish I could stop thinking of the things I should have said.

But now it’s all I do; I keep reliving in my head.

Why is it that when I’m gone, I figure it all out?

I know so clearly what I should have said, without a doubt.

Even if I sit and plan the things I want to say,

when I’m in the moment, my words don’t come out that way.

Trying it a second time is never quite the same.

It loses any impact, like a slowly dying flame.

I tell myself that next time I will get my words out right.

And someday when I do it, it should bring me great delight.

Since I never have, though, hand-me-downs are all I’ve got,

sifting through, again, how come my words betrayed my thoughts.