And of all the piles of regret that are hidden in a box under my bed, the ones that would always stab me are the times that I did not hold on to you tighter when all you ever wanted is too completely drift away just because I was too stunned with the pain I was feeling as I held all your baggage on my bare, worn hands not realizing that your absence would cause more hurt that would feel like dying only I did not really die.
I should have held on tighter. (N.A.)













