"If I had to do it all over again" you said...
The sadness of your words crept over me slowly over the next few days. As if you failed this time around but a "maybe next time" stamped the endings of all your sentences and breaths.
What is there left at the table but scraps littering where we once ate like kings? Bathing ourselves in milk and honey, wrapping ourselves in the finest linens and casting shadows to their corner penitentiaries. Now, ants line up, our dressing maidens, waiting to clean up our mess as if we were never here. What will we become when we no longer carry our what ifs and could haves in jars around our necks like concentration camp name tags. Our regrets branding themselves inside our brains so deep they hide where the light doesn't reach and where the darkness creeps out from.
If I had to do it all over again....
This is what you said
