what's left unsaid?
if never the time was taken to be read.
in the fields of flowers
where pollen falls
and nothings there to collect
lies weaves
in the petals veins
in the sorrow that is bleed
from the honey comb that stuck to the roof of my mouth.
what's there if never?
what's better?
if forever takes so long that we have the chance to forget.
and if I had one regret
it would be that regret.