Day 11 - Regret

If possible, I would reclaim the time wasted. The long years spent kissing the crook of your neck. The night hours of us, alone, breathing the songs of each other’s bodies out to lull us to sleep. The cumulation of unspoken hurts taxing the afternoon silences. The length of your arms become a calendar of this; how a vibrant thing fades, neglected. How it ends before we say the words or move to leave.