Lost

There are

a lot of shells

in the road.

Empty shells of

opportunities lost

and things forgotten.

Friends unmade,

choices undone.

The whole ground is

littered with them,

husks of things

that are not

and now never will be.

Grey and

silent and

I look at each of them in turn.

And wish

you were not one of them.

But that desire

is a husk, itself,

and I know

the wind will sweep it away.

A figment of my imagination,

you danced

around the edges of my mind.

And now you're

not here.

My thoughts

are dry and brittle.

I kick a shell over

on its side

and swear

in gibberish.

Nothing is

what I wanted, any more.

Don't know

what I miss, exactly:

you, or knowing you

were mine,

of your own free will.

Wish I had a hammer.

I'd smash all the husks of

lost hope into dust.

They

mock me.