Perhaps If . . .

The soul in anguish
Tears washing mascara away,
she cluthches her goose-down pillow and
stares out the window at the rainbow
and dreams about life as it might have been,
but never will.
If only she had done this or that differently . . .
not put on weight
not changed the color of her hair
gotten breast augmentation
laughed at his inappropriate jokes,
most of them aimed at her.
The egg salad sandwich from the day before
still lies on the bed next to her
undisturbed, but wilting with time.
The glass of milk on the nightstand is
turning into yogurt.
Yet, still she stares . . .
She knows all too well that she can not go back but
by the same token
does not want to go forward.
Perhaps if she had blue eyes instead of brown.
Perhaps if she were younger.
Perhaps if . . .