You’ve never heard my children’s laughter,
Never felt their worrisome trembling.
You’ll never pet my dog,
Never clean up after her droppings.
You won’t feel the wind on the back
Of my motorcycle,
Won’t know my favorite color
Or why I say it’s so.
Our hands will never touch, no more hugs.
Our feet won’t share another stride.
We could’ve laughed.
We could’ve loved.
You had your chance; you knew it.
You could’ve had all of me—you blew it.
