regret | mypastmademe

Wonderland by Evgeni Dinev/FreeDigitalPhotos.net

I see the questions

in the weighted, charcoal sky.

The answers whisper to me

from the soft earth.

I feel the criticisms in the cold wind,

stinging my face.

Praise falls on me in the raindrops,

soothing my skin.

I sense them talking about me,

their betrayal a circle of fire.

My open heart emits forgiveness,

their weakness something to pity.

Regret is not a pill I wish to swallow,

nor a brooch to pin upon my coat.

Hope.

Hope is a fragrant flower,

a blessing,

a child’s kiss.

The future.

mypastmademe