Regret by Another Name

I miss the kiss, the cuddle, the squeeze that
told me the world didn’t matter, but I did.
I miss the way the world slipped by without notice,
the way reality meant nothing and mattered less.

I miss the casual way we dismissed the world, as
if it were an inconvenience we could easily avoid.
I miss the ease with which we could touch one another’s
souls with a glance, the way we melted our hearts.

I miss the way we ignored convention, leaving the
critiques on the cutting room floor where it belonged.
I miss the dismissal, the rejection of judgment of
two lovers whose attachment was “wrong” but so right.

I miss being willing to break the rules, yet so conscious
that rules guided us to places we’d better not play.
I miss the guilt, the painful acceptance that our struggle
cut decency into ribbons, leaving lives broken in the breeze.

About John Swinburn

"Love not what you are but what you may become."― Miguel de Cervantes
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