I said, “Give me a minute.” That was years ago. Had a good excuse and a half-built plan, Kept tomorrow folded in the palm of my hand. Let a hundred little distractions through, Then blamed the day for what I didn’t do. Got a drawer full of things I was gonna begin, An unopened box with a dream packed in. Kept waiting for a week when the fear backed down, Now the tape’s gone yellow and I’m still circling round. I can name every turn where I lost my nerve, Every “not quite ready,” every last detour. But knowing where I stalled doesn’t start this car— Got my foot on the brake, asking why it’s so hard. I can pound on the glass, I can beg for the past, But the second hand keeps moving Every time I ask. The clock doesn’t take apologies! Can’t buy back an hour with a night of lost sleep. I’ve said I’m sorry till I’m out of breath— Got a little time left, gonna use what’s left. The clock doesn’t take apologies! Let the regret put a fire underneath my feet. I can’t undo the road behind— But I can change where I go this time. Tick—tick—MOVE. Tick—tick—MOVE. What’s the next thing? Follow through. Some days I survived, some days I hid, Had to learn the difference before I could admit: I didn’t choose every weight I carried, But I kept some doors shut long after I was ready. Spent a whole damn evening rehearsing a call, Like the words had to be perfect or mean nothing at all. Then I watched that number disappear from my screen— Another small distance growing in between. So I dial with my heart trying to break my ribs, Say the first honest sentence, let it sound like it is. No speech about the person I’m about to become— Just a hard conversation I
