I know what regret looks like,
and it involves unreachable things,
dim sightedness and satiating an ever lustful urge.
It occurred to me,
you may be waiting for another set of eyes,
I understand,
I recall witnessing another man accept the same fate.
I wont hold you to account,
nor scold you,
when you waltz them past the boundaries,
you’ve reserved for me for all these years.
I know, it’s hard to look at mine,
see their weariness and be inspired.
Perhaps, you’ll grow to love loyalty.
I’ve witnessed that too.
And the result was regret,
and never a meal eaten without his memory,
a years weeping,
until her eyes wished they never allowed another man’s eyes to touch her.
But that was just an occurrence,
and what does a child know about a grown man’s eyes,
or an uninspired woman.
W.E.
lonerloaner 