It doesn't gnaw at me any more,
just darts through my brain
taking pieces of me with it.
the what-ifs.
it's not to say I know exactly
what I'd go back and undo, it's just that
there are so many possibilities.
like what if I'd talked to the girl
reading CS Lewis in the cafeteria
that rainy tuesday in spring, or
what if I had the ability and inclination
to love any of those girls from
my youth that my Mom was sure I'd marry someday.
probably be a social worker in the
Greater Seattle Area and generally
less embarrassing at family reunions.
it's a twisted sort of nostalgia,
for things that didn't happen.
if I said I was sorry, that'd be
only half, no, a quarter of the story
and you know how sorry I'm capable of.
I'll just need a few more thinking years
to know what to do or undo, all while
passing girls reading CS Lewis without
saying anything,
lest I wake up and find myself a teacher,
Mom always said
I should work with kids.
_ - _ - _ - _
not too satisfied with that one.
today is bad with writer's block, so I'm just glad to get a shape of it posted. got some feedback from my professor on one of my stories. work continues.
1 comment:
I don't think this is as bad as you think.
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