My Only Regret
Written by Torrie DeMore on June 12, 2003
All night now,
ever since I stepped into the car
and drove away,
your words have eaten away my insides
and worked their way to my eyes
where they now drip down onto this page.
It's taken me exactly four hours
to process the circumstances
and it's been that long and now
I can no longer fight back the tears.
I was fine when you told me we were over
and I was fine when I told my friends
but now that I'm alone there's nothing stopping
the tears from falling.
I'm sure that the next time I talk to you,
I'll put on a smile and be pleasant and amiable
because it's not anger I'm feeling towards you.
You were perfectly honest with me
and as much as I appreciate it in the sense that it was honest
and I can't be angry at you (frankly, who could be?)
but this situation fills me with a certain regret.
I don't regret the time I spent with you
or getting to know about you.
I regret the things I didn't do,
the things I didn't say.
I never told you I love you,
and I wanted to, but I didn't.
I never held your hand,
and I wanted to, but I didn't.
What stopped me? What held me back?
Honestly, I haven't the faintest idea.
And that is what I regret.
I wasn't who I wanted to be,
I regret not being me.