Sometimes I wander
Up that shadowed path
That is the past
And I let my self wonder
Rather than wander
What would have happened
If I'd strayed left instead of right
At that forbidden fork
And as I gaze into the haze
That is left of best
I see you standing at the end
The sad and silvery ghost of empty promises.
But empty? No.
Just avoided and ignored
They linger in what could have been
Nipping at my heels, reminding me of what sort of person I am
I am not hurt
I am the hurt
And with that I turn from wonder
And refuse to wander