Wilted Petals

If all dreams are meant to mean something, to show us signs from our subconscious.... why is it that we rarely ever remember them?

And if we by chance do, why must we resemble a being on speed or any other substance that allows one to hurry, to remember; analyze....?

I dreamt of flowers

they smelt of chocolate and sweat milk

so enjoyable to be around, you could almost taste them....

And so I took from that bright petal

to taste what I was so certain my tongue would love;

so sure my nose would not betray me....

Trust

Faith

Hope.... disappointment.

What looked soft, hurt my teeth....

salty like tears.

What smelt sweet made my lips quiver;

and then I saw it for what it was,

not sweet, soft nor beautiful!

It was you who appeared

I saw you then for the first time,

as you are...

Colorless, bitter and old....

Love can be as blind as dreams sometimes....