Inaction Breeds Regret Poem by Elle Wolfe

Instead of lying sick in sin;
In guilty, wet remorse,
I think upon what could have been
and on the fatal course:

I took (oh god) too scared to touch
Fade, blush, faint full of shame,
And how I loved: too fast, too much
To even say your name

And how we sat, with arms entwined
And eyes caught up in stars,
Your need/fire only to remind,
And annotate my scars

And downy flecks across my limbs
Sent worship up my spine
Cracked glass pressed against jagged lips
burning and sipping brine.

Electric blood flowed through my veins
Your heart waits for replies
Then fear as strong as labour pains
Betray my silvery lies

I think, now in the fearful din
Of obsessed want for guilt
I'll always (hate) what could have been
More, what we could have built.