aching at midnight

there are bound to be
a lifetime of nights
in quiet reflection
scraping the banks
of my memories
for glimpses
of your freckled smile
for remnants of
what it was like to hold you
I cannot say-

I am not free to ask
the difficult questions
about why I -how I
could have chosen
this perpetual existence
without you it in
as it is pointless
to play in a puddle
that I myself muddied
with doubt

and it strands me
further from peace
than I could have imagined
it could be different
but it isn’t
and I wonder…
if you are
still wondering too