Omission

I sit alone, lost in memories Nostalgia and what could have been circles above like vultures They circle high with the midday sun, Mocking me. Ever present, the winged harbingers of hindsight. Down below, I am bathed in shadows. The past is the night sky, each star another burn in the tapestry of time. Choices made haunt me, paths untaken breathing down my neck That seductive could-have-been, But I am left with the distending maw of what-has-been. The moon shines through windows The drapes bleached with time The room around me Vast in its emptiness Suffocating me with the reality I have to face. Some things are best left unspoken, Even if, once told, I could breathe. Utilitarianism dictates, One should be sacrificed for the many.