A word that doesn't exist.

I was in a state of being last night -
it was a word that doesn't exist.
Sounding like my heart slowly beating
in tune to memories clouded and washed over
with regret and repentance -
with longing and love tucked away
for safe keeping -
with nostalgia and childhood hurts
that heal imperceptibly slow.
This word means the soul wrenching sorry I feel
when I never got to say it
to the one person that it'd matter to the most.
It would be a recognition that who I was
is not who I am now.
I've learned things that weigh on my mind.
This non-word would be said with conviction
braced up by my heart, rooted in my soul,
with all of my voice.
But as much as I feel it,
as much as I know how it hurts
and how it heals,
this is the word that does not exist.

Besides, you aren't here to hear it.