welded together by adjectives (disparagingrant) wrote in _blank_pages_,
welded together by adjectives
disparagingrant
_blank_pages_

  • Mood:

Regret

Regret is my shroud. It has settled around my shoulders and I wear it comfortably after years of acclimating to it's fit. I accessorize with memories and tears, pulling them from the jewelry box that is my soul.

Satisfaction, guilty blush and sinful pleasure are no longer found in my wardrobe. Where there was once a small shelf space for happiness, there are just piles of regret in various shades.

Regret is my shroud and what I've committed myself to rather than daring adventure or rash decision. When there are no more choices left to regret will my shroud still fit as comfortably?
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