regret is my imaginary friend

he appeared when i was ten

when schoolwork and teachers

were easy to handle

and when my mom was sick

for we thought was just a flicker

of saddening things and

passing time that

would soon just disappear

regret is my imaginary lover

he confessed when i was eleven

on many nights when

the moon became stuck

covered by the dark blue sky

(a flickering web of stars)

and i let his forehead kisses

and all my misses

dissolve into his arms

regret is my imaginary roommate

at twelve years old we shared a space

and talked when we were alone

all about all sorts of things

especially when we were at home

i often thought back on things i’d done

(he traveled these thoughts with me)

but when i pulled back from the past

that’s when he drew away from me

regret is my imaginary foe

my torturer at thirteen

he laced my shoes and

nipped at my heels and

wouldn’t stop screaming at me

it went back and forth

between the two of us

he claimed it was a phase,

“it all will pass

and we can be

what we once

knew to see.”

like the year of loving eleven

regret is my imaginary abuser

at fourteen i was held closely

as he drug words across my skin

and watched as light bled out

from the cracks of what i had been

even so he was so sweet

that i just sunk in his ichor

and let him soothe me into sleep

pull the tears down my cheeks

until he smiled again

regret is my imaginary pet

my growing pup at fifteen

he followed me around the world

until my vision began to swirl

from the crimson loss of my ankles

as i walked and walked

and walked away

and he crawled behind my back

tearing the bandaids and

stitching me up

a cycle all over again

regret is my imaginary clone

he tells me what i am

even at age sixteen

i’ve given up on telling him off

and pushing him away

i think he’s here to stay, regret

that is, until today

he whispered oh so quietly

to write this poem of asymmetry

and held me close

kissed word-stained skin

slowly filling up the paper

and gently told me

a secret long kept

that actually he is me