The thing about losing is that you had already won. You’ve already celebrate and held that grand prize. You’ve already paraded through the streets, head held high with a victorious grin spread wide across your face. And you’ve already seen it, that flight of colors.
The thing about losing is that you’ve already felt it lurking behind you, the minute you crossed that finish line.
But you see, you never did cross that finish line.
Maybe you passed out midway and winning was just a vision. Maybe you reached the end but the ground became an ocean and pulled you in. Maybe in another life, you did win and you did taste victory. Maybe in another life, it was your right to claim.
But in this one, you still wear his shirt to sleep at night.
And those night drives aren’t quite the same.
When those memories come back every time you see his face.
And you’re left wondering, who really won this race?
Because it’s not you and it’s not him, this crowd’s gone quite.
They’re staring eagerly, clutching their bets in their pockets.
As the lovelorn foes gaze longingly into each other’s eyes, neither ready to let the other pass.
I suppose this is the reluctance to move on and let go. Denying each other that right to heal.
For how can the tortoise win if the hare never sleeps?