Regression.
That is the stairway that leads back
And always down down down.
I once knew a girl
Who was the light of my world.
She had eyes for another.
I never moved on from that.
Now, I spend my days writing poetry
And she is somewhere, probably dancing.
With a man?
Who can say.
I dance alone
When I can.
If by chance we meet again,
I will not speak to her.
Whatever I have to say
Is right here, in this poem.
If it lingers in her memory,
I will have moved on.
And if she never reads these words,
She will,
And still
You, lonely soul, will know my love.
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