The seven deadly sins

Envy,
when i look at her and hoped it was me you loved…

Gluttony,
when i channelled my pain to food…

Lust,
when i imagined you and me together…

Pride,
when i was in denial of falling for you…

Greed,
but the truth is, i want you all for myself…

Sloth,
when i wasted lots of hours thinking of you…

Wrath,
when i wanted you to feel my pain…

I’m going to hell for all of the above.

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if I could paint love

if I could paint love,

it looks like this:

singing you a lullaby when you can’t sleep;

waking up every morning to see what you are up to;

embracing all your imperfections;

cancelling plans to encourage your dreams;

and just being there, like the wind, that pushes you to fly…

(A mother’s love is the most beautiful love there is. Simple, yet strong.)

* * *

Footsteps

I heard him stepping out and slipping in,
the bloody ghost of my past…
intruding my life over and over again
and I feel used,

naked,

tormented,

abused.

I heard him stepping out and slipping in,
laying down his burdens on my shoulder
as if I am a bin meant for the trash
but I felt lighter

when at last…

this time he listens to my plea…
to let me NOT live in his shadow
and create my own footsteps!

en plein air

I catch the drift of the afternoon hum:
of kids playing on the streets,
a mother setting dried leaves on fire
to ward off the little vampires (the mosquitoes),
the occasional motorbikes passing…

I listened closer as far as my eyes can observe;
trees are slowly silhouetted against pale gray sky
Somewhere, cicadas sing their prelude to the night
and house lights one by one illuminate the town.

Embracing the afternoon fading into night,
I wonder if this is how seeds feel underground
(vulnerable and detached from the sun’s light)
the thought is suffocating, so are growth pains.
The kids’ laughter, the fire burning on, and bikes
awaken me to the here, the now, outside…


*   *   *