Second thoughts of the past

Her soft hands half-open
About to touch mine
I shapes some words inside my mouth
My tongue almost slipped
But I stopped the conceived utterance
We left without saying goodbye
We traveled paths
That never crossed again
I sometimes think this time
What if she touched my hand
They were trembling
What if I uttered the words
Necessary for said occasion
“I love you, please do not go! ”
Why did I close my mouth that day
Why did she not touch me?
Love should have won.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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