"Impossible" is just a word
That cowards use
To find each other in a crowd

A heatless, yellow flame
Bright and silent
Consuming nothing save time

Blueprints for a bridge
I will never build
White lines in the sky, in my mind

Somewhere along the way
I lost a ruby, unaware it was in my possession
Though it has stained my hands crimson red

Sometime ago
At my door, forever locked and secure
Your messenger was turned away with dispatch

"Too late" is the scar of hesitation and "regret" its disfigured face
These mirrors, so cruel in their hindsight
Have still proved kinder than "remorse"