the air is different,
and i remember it fondly.
it once carried the promise
of infinite possibility —
but you can’t get that anymore,
you know.
now it carries
the scent of that promise
with subtle hints
of bitter sweetness
that (are sometimes
not so subtle
and) always leave me aching
for the paths i didn’t take.
maybe some are lost,
but i can feel in the air
that some remain,
buried there beneath
the words i couldn’t
still can’t
want to
might not ever get to say.