inside someone and
plant a flower.
perhaps a jasmine.
and if it stays and
survives and endures
the forces of longing
on good or bad days-
a subtle fragrance
emanates.
a yearning stretched
across time-
surviving delays,
denials, and onslaught
of non-reciprocation-
a thirst that doesn't
seek relief or validation.
ohh! this scent in my
unguarded heart.
a wound that refuses
to close, to remind me
what once felt-
it talks with the gentle
wind that blows from
the west and
settles deeper in
folds of memory like
quietude after a
heartfelt laughter.