These days run away
like criminals who
flee.
Taking with them
all of what I never
did.

This regret remains
fresh just as honey
never ages.
And there's that blood
red stain where my need
for the hurt leaked
onto the floor.

Somewhere beneath
those times and
these years lays
a reason that's fighting
to be understood.

These losses are as
sad as Pluto
losing its status.
And yet I still
believe there's
a masterpiece
somewhere within
all of us
waiting to be
freed.