If I were untrue

If I were untrue

If I were untrue

 I hope you knew

It wasn’t to you

Can we sit for awhile?

Watch the birds

Gaze at the sunrise

Talk about the kinds of seeds

We feed the birds

On a quiet morning.

If I were untrue

It was never meant to hurt you

If I were untrue

I hope you believed my truth

I’ll hold your hand

Longer than the fleeing time

I’ll show you more

Of me minus the ones

You learned somehow

If I were untrue

If I were untrue

I suppose you waited a while

For me to fly at you

To let you see what it was to me

The one I hid down the cellar of wine

Underneath the basket

Of stocked fruits

More meaningful than

The ones collected by you

If I were untrue

My love, it wasn’t meant to make you

Blind like you would

If you believed I was untrue.

Fooled for a year

Called to wait you at the bus station. You never came and I cried in the cruelest bus station. Like a child orphaned with trust and hope. You married the girl named heaven and forgot my name now dwells in oblivion. I held on to the line that screamed ” I promise you day by day we’ll hold hands.” And in my dreams I was downtrodden,  insane and guilty of the longing buried in the deepest. How to please you once became my goal so I toiled, toiled and toiled the soil. I was happy but you weren’t–who blamed me for all the lies and deceit. Don’t kiss me to start marking your territory. This life no longer threads in your pity. Even if your mouth’s open no, I’ll kill it. This I go without the thought of you to never be fooled for a year or so.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                          

Leave me for good

Why do you hold so much influence in me? Over my life?

You’ve left. 

In my head it’s clear we are done.

Would you be generous enough to just leave me in peace?

I can’t understand why you still keep me up side down… 

I want healing. 

Stop harming me.

You’re gone. 

That’s more than enough. 

Roses have thorns to protect themselves from harm. I used to be that rose too. All red and a beauty. 

Now, I have made myself the thorn. So whoever cuts and takes a piece of me will bleed. 

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