Regret seems to stick to my soul in perpetuity

like a tight glue that is reluctant to let me go.

It would take a person special to hold the key

being a heart that could make my soul grow.

Each night is a highlight reel of errors and failure

as I can never forget a past that haunts me still.

The memory is sharp, as I recall how things were

a sad burden like a boulder being rolled up a hill.

I try hard to shake these fears, reject the demon

that refuses to let me ignore an undesirable past.

To turn against one’s own self feels like treason

and I refuse to say what’s going on, even if asked.

A broken heart never fully mends as cracks remain

souvenirs from an affair that caused so much pain.