Regret

In the heat of the moment

passion burns high—

as if ignited by some otherworldly fuel.

Flames roar toward the sky,

devouring everything in their path.

Nothing seems strong enough

to smother the blaze.

It feeds on reason,

on restraint,

on every quiet voice of caution—

until at last

it devours itself.

And when the fire dies,

there is nothing left

but silence,

emptiness,

and the cold grey ashes

of regret.

~S~