Far Behind

From all the things I said

I regret not a word alone:

not a sight

not a look

not a face of indiscretion

I do not,

I simply choose not to.

Far behind in time

when I used to dwell in your gap

thinking that perhaps

water could run backwards for a while;

Far time ago

when I raised and molded the statue of false

out of sand

salt

and spit...

when I didn't think the wind was ever going to come;

So long ago

when the fluids of coherence stopped

running through my soul (and I drained)

and I became a "worst"

by own conviction (I thought)

but over the creepiest dug hole

I yet held to fall;

So far behind

I think I should let

the love ( I thought) I ever felt for you to lay

on its own foundations:

those which I and me alone built.

You have the right of nothing to feel

for nothing you have given to me...

I blame your instinct

your lower race heartbeat

my ever trusting genuine innocence

(addressed as stupidity)

and I chose not to regret.