It all kind of
Blurs together,
The mishaps
And "what if"s.

The well-wishes
Of old friends
Etched carelessly
With bleeding ink.

Looking through
Yearbooks, trapped
Behind cartilage cages.

When you think
About it all too
Hard, your lungs
Do a flip-flop.

But when you don't
Think about it at all,
Your skull feels bare.

"Bittersweet"
Is the name
Of the game.