What I could have done,
What I should I have done,
Regrets . . .
The storage space inside me,
That harbors disappointments.
It's my gallery of unfinished paintings,
My music scores without words or purpose.
It holds unfinished moments,
Kisses never placed on his lips.
Touches lived only in my head
All a passionate reminder of what could have been.
I don't go there as often
Surrendering what I once was
Refusing to ponder those lost parts of my life,
Today I passionately live in each gifted moment.
So excuse my intensity,
It's fueled by the many regrets.
No question now goes unasked,
No touch or kiss not given.
So if you wish my intensity to end...
Just remember, someday in the storage space of your life.
You may wonder how I really taste
And your regrets will begin.
Copyright 2006 L.K. Craft