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The Lessons Haunt

At times to her regret

By Colleen Millsteed Published 2 years ago • 1 min read
Image courtesy of Pixabay

She falters with the mind chattering a mile a minute,

Reminders, memories, what ifs and why nots,

Life was sent to teach her the meaning of darkness,

To let her live there, to stroll the blackness tying her in knots.

******

She faced her hardest choices, her most brutal decisions,

Tormented by the lessons begged upon her each day,

She had to swallow her voice, catch her violent screams,

Silence her heart, her song, her dreams; as they were swept away.

******

Decades evolved until solitude was her perfected vision,

Crushed by the dream that was left to die,

She would live with that regret buried deep within her love,

Never allowing her desire the freedom to fly.

******

Foolishly believing she wasn’t enough, didn’t have what it takes,

Wandering the lay of the land, in a desert without an oasis,

Unnecessarily it seems, a secret that will now forever torture her soul,

Her self-imposed prison failing on every basis.

******

Life was not lived for many of those years,

Wasted throughout the attempts of a seperate connection,

Seldom a smile to be seen, not one to grace her face,

Unknown to the one that would have been her selection.

******

She cried tears, just once, for a much detested goodbye,

Not given enough time to concrete her memories, to favour her dreams,

But the years moved on, cruelly oblivious,

Leaving her in solitude while her heart silently screams.

******

If only she could turn back the clock with a little lighthearted banter,

Win the battle, hold tightly to her prize,

Live within the realm of happiness. Wouldn’t that be different?

To have never felt the pain or allowed those tears to fall from her eyes.

sad poetry

About the Creator

Colleen Millsteed

My first love is poetry — it’s like a desperate need to write, to free up space in my mind, to escape the constant noise in my head. Most of the time the poems write themselves — I’m just the conduit holding the metaphorical pen.

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    Written by Colleen Millsteed