What Might Have Been

I inhale

Broken promises.

The memory of you

Aches in my bones.

They lay alone,

And yet still affected

By having once been
One with yours.

I consume

Wasted potential.

The dust of you

Films my brain.

Every nerve

Inhibited

With the burden

Of my
"It might have been,"

I blink

Unsaid words.

The sight of you

Sinks my heart.

Buries it deep,

Constructs a new wall,
Tall as the tower
Of Babel.

From here
To heaven,
I crack

Your voice

Into my knuckles.

From here
To hell,
I trace

The pads of

Your fingers

Along my hands.

I exhale

broken promises.

2011