The thought of him appears out of the night around me,

as the white stars sing their lullaby. It is a time of regret,

and I am lonely like the centaur in his ruins, who gazes up

into the sky without choice. He is surrounded by

the emptiness of the universe and must recognize it.

He has made mistakes, but nothing can erase them now.

That is where regret comes from.


My regret is frosted by the silvery charcoal clouds

and night's phantom black valleys. They are empty.

Things only exist within the timeframe of an eye blink.

I have not forgiven myself for being naïve, and selfish, and young.

My memories shoot past—burning, exploding, vibrant with life

because I have not let go, and I regret what I did to him.