Bite my tongue. Hold my words. Leave things left unsaid.

Go on without voicing the thoughts in my head.

I may crave, I may long for memories of the past.

But our choices were made. The plaster was cast.

“There’s still hope.” “Meant to be:”

Such phrases float through my mind.

But that’s wishful thinking.  My choice is defined.

So for now, life goes on, as I wait for the day

When remembrances of firsts begin to fade away.