The stories I never completed haunt me.
(All those beginnings and endings, the happy-ever-afters and once-upon-a-times; all the meetings and partings and bonds forged lost in the maze of lost things.)
The words I left unsaid echo in my mind.
(And in my head I say them all, and every time things take a different turn. Multiple universes springing forth from words suppressed.)
The touches i never made rake my skin.
(Scratches and gashes on burning skin. Trickling blood and warm tears and open wounds and pain,pain, and more pain.)
The laughter I never let loose lies trapped in my throat.
(Sometime i wonder how long before it chokes me.)
The doors I never opened creak on their hinges.
(They creak and sob and wail of destinies doomed and fates forsaken.)
The light from stars I did not see blind my sight.
(They burn and burn behind my eyes; the fire and wrath of the heavens let loose in a blaze that would put supernovae to shame.)
The tears I never shed lie dammed behind my eyes.
(Because I’m afraid that if I ever let them go, I will never be able to stop the torrent. Stinging saltwater and racking sobs.)
The screams I never cried reverberate in my lungs.
(Ricocheting again and again, clawing with desperation, seeking some release.)
The wounds I never acknowledged grow deeper, deeper.
(They’re digging all the way up to my soul, bones and blood and all.)
My heart is fit to explode with the breaths I haven’t breathed when all that was in me shut down, all those times.
(Every beat of my heart is the dwindling countdown of a ticking bomb.)
All that I haven’t done ghosts me, every day, every night, for all of eternity.