A Conversation Between Yesterday and Tomorrow

Yesterday sighs with a voice like old rain:

"You’ll stumble where I did—I know it’s in vain.

The cracks in the pavement still trip me, you’ll see,

No matter how carefully you try to be free."

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Tomorrow just grins, half-shadow, half-light:

"Oh, hush with your ‘should haves’—I’ll still get it right.

Your wounds may be tender, but time stitches fast,

And lessons you bled for are weapons at last."

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Yesterday mutters, "But what of the cost?

The love that you wasted, the hours you lost?"

Tomorrow leans closer, a whisper, a spark:

"Lost things have a way of leaving their mark."

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They bicker like siblings, these ghosts in my chest—

One clinging to ruin, one craving what’s next.

Till dawn finds them tangled, both wrong and both wise,

Two halves of the same endless "What if?s" and "Why?"s.