Like slivers of glass beneath the skin
Like the heat of tears singing beneath the eyes
Like one incident repeating itself time and over again,
that nothing remains in memory to separate the instance from the next...
Like the last brown fall leaf clinging to the tree
Like slushy trodden snow that has lost its beauty
Like sheets of rain
So many "if only"s...
If only he had not spoken so
If only she had not taken it so
If only he had asked her to stay
If only she had not walked away
If only he could take back the words
If only she would call him one last time
If only he had not uttered them with so much certainity
If only she had not taken them so seriously
Like the last embers struggling to stay alight
Like a spring straining against being stretched too tight
Like an emptiness that fills the entire space within
If only he would tell her
If only she could ask him
If only he would come to her
If only she would let him
I wonder how it all ends...