Lines of remorse.

I place my hand on the book of my regrets
Hesitant to flip the page over
To bring to life, that lay in their grave, under the dusty layer
With what’s left of it, just bones, all over

Do I want to resurrect, what has caused me so much pain?
Do I want to resurrect, what can still cause me so much pain?

I sit still, my thoughts attempt to push me into action
The heart says yes, but the mind is hesitant
Unwilling to go down the path
That memory may have glorified
Glazed over, to smell sweet like the roses
But is strewn by prickly thorns, as reality has proven right

Do I want to relive what I’ve had?
Do I have the strength to experience it, afresh?
Knowing what is coming ahead, knowing how it ends?

So I gaze at the book of my regrets
Mentally, add another line
Of my resistance to open it, to take a look inside

I gently set the cover back, to meet the rest of its kin
And sigh at the undisturbed book
As my tears marks the dust on its cover, herein

One tear laments about the sorrows I feel
The other, remorse for not taking the chance
Not taking what could change my life
And letting love slip through my fingers
Same fingers, that now wipe the tears that fall.