Until Burnt Out

For the one chewing the same regret for years — 'if I had said it,' 'if I hadn't done it.' Written for the time the last cigarette is still smoldering. The memories you can't forget are probably the ones your body decided not to forget. Not as punishment, but as a quiet record of how you really wanted to live. The cello isn't apology or encouragement. It just breathes at the same pace beside the regret. Burning out takes time. Tonight, you don't have to open the window.