Unforgiven

You know them, because you pass them by all the time.
Straggled like the scattered fragments of broken glass,
They are noticeable only because you know,
How you have to go.

Some blend with the soiled walls of the street,
Since they are too thin to be seen,
Their wary eyes rounded by the reception
Of a thousand hateful looks.

Sometimes a cold breeze will graze the skin
Of cheeks beneath the look of a distant memory,
When the thought of reaching out to a hand, extended,
Dissipates in the tears of painful regret.

You’ve seen this person, struggling for a friend,
Desperate for affection, from saying the wrong thing,
From believing the wrong thought, never having known,
Until it was too late — and you have to keep going
Because you know the consequences,
Of sharing a passing smile.

Somewhere they’ll turn up for the ocean salts,
To absorb the wealth of their sorrows,
Where the earth will offer the solace
That another person simply cannot.

Waves will crush against the sand,
And the gulls will glide their airy flights,
Passing at times in front of the sun.

But when the frigid night arrives,
When the myriad stars rain down their hollow sounds,
Do they herald the shades of those who are forgotten,
Unforgiven?

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