Regret? You Bet Poem by Simona Terron

Who says I’m counting out the days
And the minutes and the hours since you took your love away
Who says I miss your smile, your warmth, your eyes
And the look of sheer surprise when you realized you loved me
Who says I start to cry every time the memories flood back
And attack the fresh wound my psyche sports
The joke’s on me and yet I flee the inevitable regret
That pursues all impulsively indulged pleasures
Seeking, seeking to forget and blend into the wide open spaces
That call out to the impervious gods that reside
In their pristine forgetfulness, their pride of creation
Now faded into a stultified memory

(24th April,2001)
That is content to do the backstroke in the cesspool
Of seemingly stagnating sublime time