Regret

Would now be
different if that
night I had told
you how I felt?
I felt so afraid
to lose what now
seems lost already.
Fear, it's what
made me lie to you.
I told you
I didn't love you -
that I just wanted
to be friends.
I think you knew
it was a lie, perhaps
but you were
relieved, I think.
And so we went
our ways, slowly
drifting away.
And now my
regret lies
in how I
betrayed myself
that night.

© Eleanor Clark
25 August, 2015

While this is a standalone poem, it was written to be preceded by Tonight. 

Tonight

Tonight I said
goodbye -
farewell,
to one-sided love.
I sat across the
table and looked
into your eyes -
the question asked
and answered.
It's not fair to you,
nor me, to layer
this friendship in pain
and awkward silence,
words unspoken,
denied so long ago.
Perhaps one day
I'll feel it was a
good thing, but
tonight, all I feel is
regret.

© Eleanor Clark
25 August, 2015

Although this is a standalone poem, I wrote a follow-up poem to be paired with it called Regret. 

Words Unsaid

The words,

they

hang

Like lead
Weighted in
Between lines
Unspoken,
Unsaid.

A smile, a nod
Tinged in scarlet
Dreams, stuck 
behind immobile
tongue and lips -

Inanity, disguised
In smalltalk,
Fear-encased,
Stems a flood, of
Potential happiness -
perhaps.

What wants
To be said
Cannot be,
As it lies behind
A wall -

And so the
Conversation
Tastes too
Much of melancholy
And bitter tears.

Eleanor Clark
28 March, 2015

Regret

In dreams of satin
silk thoughts wound
through longing -

desires past
begin to whisper
weeping, at once
was found and now
is lost somewhere
in actions past
that never were -

in thoughts bound
up in nervous hope.

To wander in this
sense - loss
regret
permeating my
sleep in tossing,
turning, lingering
conversations.

In the morning
it seems that
dreams unfolded
revealing contradictions -

thoughts I never
knew were there -
but were.

hearts beating in
desire that never
had a chance to talk.
Your fingers wound
through mine

then let go as
you stepped away
with mourning dawn.

And a tear runs
down my cheek.

© Eleanor Clark
18 March, 2015