Regret’s Cave

My regret is like a grizzly bear preparing for hibernation.

Consuming every fruit in sight,

the bush left barren.

Jagged claws grasp ripe blueberries, 

blessings from spring.

The beast's muzzle, stained purple.

Life bearing bush made obsolete.

Shaggy fur like warm honey,

the bees paid the price.

Sickly sweet,

the image sticks,

ingrained deeply in my mind.

The beast doesn’t care,

it takes and takes; the forest will always give.

Like regret, it takes from its host until desolate.

The striking beast made its way past boulders and rotting logs

to make itself at home

in my cave.

Its muscle hump left a shadow on my wall.

Stalagmites rise from the floor

like guilt bubbled up.

I tried to spit it out,

but stalactites hung over me.

Calcite canines—

I'm surrounded by his essence.

Silence can’t drive a grizzly out of a cave.

The rock formations impossible to move.

After hyperphagia, the bear has taken all that it could.

It's the grizzly bear—

if you see, you can’t fight back.

Try faking your death,

but the cave belongs to the beast.

The air, soon to turn cold.

And he’ll find me soon.

When he looks into my eyes I see my wicked soul.

For now he allows me my unrest.