Bitter is the taste of regret.
I know, regret is tattooed on my heart.
Like a bayonet every time I catch a thought of you.
My breath catches, my face freezes, my mind decays
back to our days, when,
I held a flaming torch, you held a match!
I look back, you probably don't remember the girl that made you
her world.
Felt possessed just at knowing you.
Hated the fact that she was too much of a coward to let you know,
that friendship was not enough.
You were put in a box, lid on tight, but you crawl to me
every night.

I dread looking at what you are now,
I bet your silhouette is the same, but your contents have changed.
Am I in a box of your regrets?
It's ok I know the answer.
I just torture myself as it's better to feel pain than nothing at all.
Is she as funny as me?
Is she as happy as I once was?
I bet you have kids. I don't. I won't.
I'd like to reset my regret, but life won't let me.
Bitter is the taste, bitterness grinds at my epithet.
I lay my head down in dread knowing that I fled.
A wretch full of regret.
But, before you open my box of regrets tonight, remember,
*Always kiss me goodnight.