& then when
the morning light made me choke as
how the gentle susurration blended
with the birdsong & the light
curved like the branches above us
skin within which poison blends with pollen
& flowers blossom before I pluck them
to place in your hair where
they will wither & die.
The past still lingers in the present,
& refuses to leave with the grace
of living things.
This is what regret means:
never to forget someone
knowing of all the lives that could have been;
for the last time.