what’s left unsaid

for a while now,
these words hidden buried in pockets
clenched tightly inside sweaty palms,
forming confessions, prayers,
intertwined with the lint and $1.25 loose change.

over and over ive memorised how they felt in the dark,
but i could never let them out.

is it a lie that i never let them see the light?
wrap them in apologies (too little, too late, i know),
leave them by your bedside window
for you to find on the evening i pack my bags,
walk out the door and leave everything behind.

and maybe that will be the heaviest regret of all.