Past

We always want more time.

A repeat of a history where it didn't run out.

Like family dinners or vacations 

When we felt unbothered and loud.

We are always left with things undone.

All we can feel is that void.

Everything we wish we said on repeat.

Memories that only us now hold.

The past is becoming stories only I now tell.

I am so afraid that I won't tell them well.