I spent five years crafting perfectly written stanzas
about a boy who twirled his hair like my mother
the loss of him at fifteen
and the baby we would never speak about
I emptied my soul on those pieces of paper
and then folded them neatly
into tiny little squares
and tucked them away
like the judge who sealed our mistake
his final thesis at Kalamazoo was a satin heart
sewn together like a pillow
he hammered that delicate heart to a wooden board
and pierced every square inch with nails
we see each other occasionally at the bar,
there are no sideways glances
no talks of missed opportunities
he stares past me blankly and says hello to my husband
an awkward moment
stinging every inch of my skin
revealing my discomfort
my vulnerability
fifteen years later
a working mother, with a small child
I still feel his judgement
his disapproval
of every single word
I am writing in this poem
“regret,” by Lindsay Diem along with two other poems will currently be published in Anti-Heroin Chic, an online magazine in late June.
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Lindsay is a teacher that spends the majority of her free time writing about her strong willed toddler. She consumes caffeine on a regular basis to survive.