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The symbolism of regret

It hangs around you.

What is guilt? It asks.

“It’s you.” I reply.

“It’s The constant reminders in


Small things like windows.

And folded pieces of paper you throw at the wall.

You see their face everywhere.

You can’t ever touch it.

Or speak to it.

It’s too far away and leaves you

reaching for the mirage. 

It is the clock on the wall.

No one can ever fix.

Because when he died it stopped.

And he was the only one who knew 

How to fix it.”

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