and not taken
is like a perfume spilled over
You cannot deny the scent
by hiding it
inside the closet;
You can only
wear the dress in the open air
for the smell to fade in time.
The next time you’ll
smell the scent,
it won’t hurt.
It will only be sweet
as perfumes are supposed to be.
When you get to see someone chase their dreams, hear their voice brim with joy or the moments of resignations, you know it’s real, both the person and the dream.
You can almost catch the rhythm of happiness and failure, the moments of pauses in between.
You know how one could love something so real that their blood gushes in it. And you’d come to know that you too are that person – with a different set of dreams that were perhaps put on halt out of fear, shame, or doubt.
You realize if the same red blood can rush into someone else’s veins, then it could flow into you too. Dreams can come pouring out of your eyes, too.
It’s doable. Far from great, but doable.
That to see someone love something so much reminds you how much you love something as much.