Regret is a killer.

The thought

that I might have

had you

is tearing me apart.

And yet,

it’s a fairly recent idea.

And maybe that means

I’m growing

because

before

I felt unworthy of my desires,

unworthy of you.

To  imagine

seducing you

was such

a wicked thought,

to corrupt

the shy Christian boy.

I would not let myself go there.

And now

I think

it’s possible

you could have been bi.

And I could have made you happy.

It’s taken a lot of

self esteem

to turn you

from sexual daydream

into potential partner.

I’m fighting

the cynic inside me

that feels

another you

will never cross my path again.

Out of all the guys I’ve been with,

none have been

as handsome

sweet

and gentle.

I’ve only really been on

about three dates,

all with sweet guys

who turned sour later.

I miss talking

about music and books

with you.

I loved your mind

and your poetic soul

as much

as I lusted after your body.

I think that’s why

it feels

like it would have been so easy,

best friends

becoming lovers.

I don’t know where you are now

or if I’ll ever see you again.

But you were a special part of my life,

a friend during the lonely high school years,

and you even walked beside me

in a way

when I came out to myself,

my feelings for you

a confirmation

of my sexual orientation.

You will always hold a tender place in my heart

and eventually

it will ache less

than it does tonight.