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Each morning is another death. I die with the
opening of my eyes. Only in my dreams awaken
to fight the truth of my existence. I chose
this bed and now I lay within, unmoving,
...
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If it helps, there is another chance but not to do it all again. We must live with our regrets. Your poem is full of passion and that is how life should be lived.
I hope time will help you come to terms until new love finds you. Not a better love nor a greater love but a different love of stability and security. Then you will be able to fly! Your poem is excellent!
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9/4/2025 9:21:38 AM # 1.0.0
Please tell me that there's another chance to do it all again nice meditative, prosaic poem