a work in progress
she thinks maybe it's regret.
her subconscious nags at her, reminding her,
of a bittersweet trip to a prairie city, built on oil and cowboys,
of an airplane ride that was spent in a stomach-twisting mixture of anticipation and anxiety,
of a friendship that slowly, teasingly, turned into something more,
(if only for the briefest of moments),
of a first kiss that made her feel like there were a thousand butterflies rioting in her stomach,
(she can only feel a ghost of that feeling now),
of feelings her mind begged her heart not to act upon,
of a decision that she thinks about every day, wondering, forever wondering, if it was the right one,
of a secret she keeps filed away until she's alone in her room at night,
(with only the darkness to bear witness to her heartache).
her subconscious nags at her, reminding her,
of a bittersweet trip to a prairie city, built on oil and cowboys,
of an airplane ride that was spent in a stomach-twisting mixture of anticipation and anxiety,
of a friendship that slowly, teasingly, turned into something more,
(if only for the briefest of moments),
of a first kiss that made her feel like there were a thousand butterflies rioting in her stomach,
(she can only feel a ghost of that feeling now),
of feelings her mind begged her heart not to act upon,
of a decision that she thinks about every day, wondering, forever wondering, if it was the right one,
of a secret she keeps filed away until she's alone in her room at night,
(with only the darkness to bear witness to her heartache).