Omission
I sit alone, lost in memories
Nostalgia and what could have been circles above like vultures
They circle high with the midday sun,
Mocking me.
Ever present, the winged harbingers of hindsight.
Down below, I am bathed in shadows.
The past is the night sky, each star another burn in the tapestry of time.
Choices made haunt me, paths untaken breathing down my neck
That seductive could-have-been,
But I am left with the distending maw of what-has-been.
The moon shines through windows
The drapes bleached with time
The room around me
Vast in its emptiness
Suffocating me with the reality I have to face.
Some things are best left unspoken,
Even if, once told, I could breathe.
Utilitarianism dictates,
One should be sacrificed for the many.
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