Between the things we thought were missed
And the ones we never find,
lie dreams that pile on bucket lists
And a life that’s lived confined.
Between the chances we held in fists
And the risks that we declined,
lie fires dying in ash of what-ifs,
And a fate to which we feel resigned.
Between the ties we hoped will persist
And the ones that left us blind
lie resentments that blossom like the cysts,
And a paper bin full of confessions we left unsigned.