I can’t pretend I don’t regret
The way I broke the moment into pieces.
That the last I saw of you
Was just a shattered reflection
Of what had gone before.
I was brought up to be honest
But surely there was a version of the truth
Or a kinder lie
That could have protected
A little of what we’d shared.
Would it have been ignorance or innocence
To have left you sleeping
On the morning of the day
That a part of me died.
© 2018 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.
Originally published 28 February 2016
Made of sticks and stones 