Memory

Bad habits die hard, most don’t die at all.

This world ain’t so big, but I feel so small,

alone with all these people I barely know,

wonderin’ where from here we should go.

I’ve not had so many friends, and yet

feels like I’ve lost so many to neglect.

And don’t get me started on whatmighthavebeens,

dozens for dimes from way back when;

roads not taken, kisses not stolen,

chances missed, don’t come ‘round again.

Somehow I miss the lives I’ve not lived,

melancholic mirage of reality altered.

What if and whaddabout,

still haven’t figured out

whether I’m on the right road or not.

Not that I’m not happy with what I’ve got

but the mind boggles at the opportunities,

the whashernames, half-forgotten hotties.

Still those friends who slipped thru cracks,

make me wonder the most in fact.

Used to share the daily grind,

now outta sight, outta mind.

Might they wonder about me,

and my post-they reality,

as I ponder them and theirs,

or do they go on unawares?

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