A Sense of Self

A poem about the unfortunate side effect of life

Photo by Malin K. on Unsplash

I miss the jumping into the sky
Perhaps I shouldn’t be so selfish
but I am. Knowing
failure is the end result
I still want to be in love again.

While I don’t desire the drama
I am wistful for the hope of youth
(and my 20-year-old thighs
which I’m not supposed to admit
because it means I’m shallow).

I’m not going to chase the past.
There is no beauty in artifice,
no joy in undergoing the knife
and poison is only for enemies
(a terrible gift to give myself).

But I can say, since I
know that I won’t go back
and know why I can’t
I’ll never miss the time I’ve spent
in parenting new creations.

There is only one regret
beyond a tired redemption
and a useless wish
for the backwards march
of yesterday’s mistakes.