Regret seems to stick to my soul in perpetuity

  like a tight glue that is reluctant to let me go.

  It would take a person special to hold the key

  being a heart that could make my soul grow.

  Each night is a highlight reel of errors and failure

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  as I can never forget a past that haunts me still.

  The memory is sharp, as I recall how things were

  a sad burden like a boulder being rolled up a hill.

  I try hard to shake these fears, reject the demon

  that refuses to let me ignore an undesirable past.

  To turn against one’s own self feels like treason

  and I refuse to say what’s going on, even if asked.

  A broken heart never fully mends as cracks remain

  souvenirs from an affair that caused so much pain.