What could have been?
It’s something that crosses my mind every once in a while,
And no matter how hard I try not to,
I always end up thinking about it.

Would it have worked if I walked up to him?
If I had complimented his pretty smile and beautiful poetry?
If I had stared a little longer than just a glance, would he have noticed me?
Would me just being blunt, and confessing to him get me the reciprocation I wanted?
Would that have gained me the pretty boy with personality, that now haunts me like a ghost in campus hallways?

What could have been?

If I followed through with my plans to get him,
Would I currently be calling him?
Would we be exchanging good morning texts and poems if I had listened and just talked to him?

What could’ve been?

If I had wished him more than good luck,
would I be wishing him a safe return when he leaves?
Would I be sharing with him my deepest of thoughts, and all the love I put into my poetry?
If I was honest would our story be one for the books?
If I played my cards right, would he have been mine?

What could have been?
It’s something I can’t help but think about.
The thought lingers around my mind the same way he lingers around my heart
What could have been?

Into the glass I look and see
A figure of half century life
A reflection of an older me
Eyes showing the child I used to be
As they reside amongst a face of crumpled skin
That still has traces of a younger beauty

Wisdom is like the teeth grown over years
And I carry the wounds of choices made
I can’t now regret and shed crocodile tears
I will live with the mistakes, and have no fears
Of retribution when I reach the end
Though they will be no horns or angel cheers

No, I can’t change what is to be
But if I could step through the glass
Take the hand of the younger me
Show her another way, make her see
One mistake can put steps on a road
To life lived lonely, just me, not we.

And in the end sometimes
We do not forget
The bridges that we never crossed
To the homes, we never lived

You do not always lose that which you hold
At times you never held it yet there it goes
In our memory, it stays
Though only as a dream
And in the end sometimes
Life is just as hard as it seems

THE ART OF PROCRASTINATION

I have often wondered, and I have often thought,
That I have often delayed without there being any cause.
I often over think and I often codgitate,
Procrastinating over my procrastinations of the day.

Over thinking needlessly, postponed imagined pain.
Second guessing everything. Oh why must I delay?
I know that it's important so why do I delay?
I know that it's my only chance.
Hold on... I'm running away.

And what will happen if I fail?
Oh and what will people think?
And what if I have got it wrong?
... Maybe I'll rethink.

The point of all this pondering, is to try to tell myself
To never let a moment pass without giving me a chance.

"So what!" If people laugh.
"So what!" If I lay dashed.
At least I'll know within myself that I've given me a chance.

For now I'll live on with regret, every day,
And think about those who seem so far away.
What would have happened & where would I be?
Oh if only I'd...

If only indeed.

John Flanagan 21/11/2016