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Two hands hold a heart shape that is torn in two
Illustration by Bravoart on Depositphotos

Regrets linger in the unspoken
words of a sad son.
Memories and moments,
given too gladly, to a false bliss.
Opportunities forsaken,
offered as payment,
but how can I make amends
for a memory never made?
The hands on the clock melt
in the heat of my hate,
and I bathe in my shame
for all of the time that I’ve given away.
All effort aimed in the wrong direction,
and at the time I had no regrets
for the joy that could have been.
Taken away
with no recognition of effort.
If only
I could turn back the hands on the face,
rewind to the time
when it wasn’t too late.
Be given back those lost moments
and those wrong choices.
Given back those opportunities
thrown in the garbage.
If the possibility was offered
would I find myself still alone,
or would he share my hope?

Disclaimer: The views in this article are those of the author. Global Forum Online has verified the writer’s identity and basic facts such as the names of institutions mentioned.

Bradley Layman is a poet incarcerated in Michigan.