I prefer what is
and what was
to what could have been
they sting smarter
harder
in the here and now
but life lessons are like tattoos
they cover my body
I don't mind the pain
What could have been is the secret killer
a seedling
it sprouts regrets
you plant it so carefully in rich dark earth
thinking that buried things will die
when in fact
they bloom.
What could have been feels better now but
it doesn't fade with time.
It grows.
A corpse flower.
It takes years to open
when it does you will struggle to
see or smell or taste or touch
any other flower in the room.
I watch you sew the seeds
and say nothing. I know.
The only way to learn the lesson
is to let it root.
A memory
abandoned before it could be made
is sure to rot
and the only one to smell it
will be you.