Where is regret
when flowers bloom
and they're on the brink
of bursting
with lacy desire

Where is regret
when yesterday
I was not who I am
today and
today, tomorrow.

Why is regret
here now when
yesterday it could not
create a shadow
but only a subtle
flicker,
tap in my gut
a wick of a candle
that will not light,

but burns to oblivion,
all the same.

Why can't I just be
and not let the bees keep
swarming in my head
words being written
on the wall of who I am
and who I thought I'd be?

Where is regret within my soul?

I have to stomp it out.