Trapped

Footsteps echo
in the memory
down the passage 
we did not take
towards the door
we never opened
Somehow,
we are always here
at this moment

you and I

Heart trapped 
in desperate imaginings
of love's what-if's
What might have been 
is an abstraction, 
a perpetual possibility
only in a world of speculation
What might have been
and what has been
point to one end
which is always present
only in the realm 

of the unknown