Regret - September Stories

I’ve played with the thought of running away from what haunts me most

Or maybe just ending the story short

Either would be better than this place that I’m at now

I’ve played this thought over passing it back and forth between my fingers

Enough to make them raw through the skin

Cutting deep into my bones and hitting the one thing that I’ve held through

these long seasons… my hope

While everything’s come and gone, that was the one thing that kept me from

giving up on going on

Like the times when friends and family tell you «You're going to do great

things»

But this actually held some sense of meaning in its phrase

Unlike the empty nonsense that’s said to comfort you with the fact that your

youth has expired

Some would say it’s wrong and that I’m the liar, but you’ve got a feeling

crawling deep under your skin that tells you right

Tells you that this plan that’s been laid out for you isn’t etched in stone

Isn’t written to be declared to the generations below

It’s a feeling that’s nestled itself deep in my awkwardly long bones

Leaching off the hope that let me endure this tragedy that we like to call a

home

It wasn’t always a tragedy, and there weren’t always holes in the walls where

holes should never be

There was a time when pictures hung from every free inch of the walls

Sporting landscapes and memories that stretch down the entire hall

Showing the life that used to roam freely and the love that came endlessly

But fear is the one thing that led to it’s destruction

This disillusion of fear led us to dismantle what we had worked so hard to build

What we had given so much to find

And within the blink of an eye, or whatever you prefer to tell time…

it was gone

This home that had birthed a tragedy, had finally given way to its own

And yet I still search for way of how to recreate that home

No matter how many pictures I tilt or how many days I cross off in the month of

September

I can’t recreate what we had

No matter how many walls you paint or pictures you hang

It’ll never be the same as it once was

It’s like I found myself stuck living in the past holding onto anything that

brings some sort of comfort, or at least won’t bring any pain

And you’ve got that pain wrenched deep under your skin

Crawling into any crack and crevice, finding any way to get in

And that void that you’ve got that you feel in your limbs

It can’t be cured with any pill or needle

The things that you use to numb the gnawing bite until it fades into a dull tick

No… only something greater than yourself can fill that void that you’ve been

trying to satisfy for years

That void is the same pain that’s made itself home in my awkwardly long bones

I wish I had the guts to confront what haunts me the most

I wish I had the ability to take a chance without the fear of falling

But I think I’ve finally discovered what keeps me up at night when I’m all alone

That’s the pain that’s made it’s home in these God forsaken bones