Nostalgia and regret keep me awake
Golden street lights shine through a small thicket in the black sky
More chlorine than water in my glass.
If I could perform a massive rewind and fix one mistake,
Would I do it?
How many butterflies would I crush?
One? Twenty?
What would I lose?
Would it be too much for one decision?
What is the cost of a sentence never spoken?
A look?
A touch?
Guilty memories, regrets, chagrin, are fresh forever--
A rotten apple at the bottom of a bushel.
A simple thought rekindles the pain--
It burns as bright as fresh blood.
Happy memories age and fade.
Every accomplishment molds from the bottom up.
The rotten endure.
Defeat haunts me.
It clouds my judgment and renders simple choices impossible.
One overshadows them all.
If I had the chance, would I undo it,
And replace the rotten with the ripe just to watch it wilt?
Or would I watch as my rock rolled down again,
And I, with chlorine-water in hand, begin to push it back up
Into the night sky?
My own personal hell?
No.
I can't not be what I was.
I can only be what I am.
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I tried reworking this poem 'cause I like it. I found more abstractions and more remain, but I kind of like them. I certainly like the ending better.
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