If only

you were
an imaginary dot,
redeeming me from
the whiff of
what and whatnot;
veiling the contours
that outline
distraught dreams
and 'mull over' diaries'
reveling not in hindsight
but in my forethought;
and imbibing the unsaid
code for survival
between delicate dandelions
and not so delicate trees,
if only you were
an imaginary dot;
i could have made
peace with my memories.