He sat with his conscience
while the past took a sip of his rum.
Memories danced around his room
and guilt went out for some fresh air.

He stared at his cigarette
as the ashes fell to the ground.
“What?”
he angrily asked his conscience.

“You shouldn’t have let her go,”
the past intruded.
His conscience chuckled sarcastically
and clinked glasses with his past.

The memories grabbed him by the arm,
invited him for a dance,
while guilt loudly called
to join him outside.

He mourned the destruction
he had caused,
as she enjoyed the new life
she had built.

He regretted his foolishness,
his selfishness,
not realizing how pointless
his regrets were.

He longed for the past,
but the past existed no more.
He longed for her face,
but she couldn’t recognize him anymore.

He called her name,
hoping she’d answer.
He imagined her body,
hoping she’d re-appear.

Alcohol was no longer effective—
only her photos
could briefly eradicate his pain.

The past was right:
He shouldn’t have let her go.
But he only let her go
to set her free.

Missing her is his destiny
and mourning her is beyond his choice.
Smelling her again turned into a fantasy,
while touching her became a dream.

He conversed with his conscience,
drank rum with his past.
He danced with the memories
and joined guilt outside.

Conscience,
past,
memories,
and guilt
became his constant companions.

He shouldn’t have let her go.

 

 

Author: Elyane Youssef

Image: Annie Spratt/Unsplash

Editor: Nicole Cameron