Poem for the week: "My Foolish Tongue"

My Foolish Tongue

It hurt to say what I did without thinking,

it hurt her, but it hurt me more than her;

but I said what I did because I cared,

and that’s the irony of love.

Why do we hurt those we love?

We care for them, we long for them,

we cry for them, and we would die for them;

but we hurt them all the same.

I thought about what I said to her last night,

and it took hours before I fell asleep;

but when morning came, I saw my error

and vowed to make amends.

It’s happened before, two or three times—

maybe more; but always one more time too many,

and it seems to take forever to heal the wounds

of my foolish tongue.