The tears don’t dry because I do not know how to stop them,
From tearing my face into uneven pieces.
I am crying, because I am ashamed.
My heart’s head and shoulders are hunched,
My hearts spine is bent.
My heart’s demeanour is that of infamy and lament.
I want to cry tonight:
For my little heart that droops so low.
And maybe tomorrow,
I will plead for my heart’s forgiveness,
Possibly in the future I will reason with my hearts face to smile again.
Possibly...
With such a name that consists of syllables that slice the air,
I shouldn’t have been so surprised that I was shortly short of breath.
Years ago before the seasons of my life became so complicated, we had met.
Before the discovery of fog and hail
At a time when my life resembled easy breezes and the sunset.
When I could see things clearly without fail...
The time has come when we meet again,
At a moment when I have just emerged from the glen.
I am out of breath, but starting to see clearly,
I was starting to heal me.
Him, not being in my way, but being an invited presence,
He presented himself as follows:
Graceful and chilled,
With a firm yet, muscular build.
(A body I could feel safe with)
A heart warming smile,
A tall structure; an elevated physique.
(A person I could run to)
He had: dancing eyes and cinnamon lips,
An earth kissed nose and honey rich skin.
His breath was light but his words were deep,
and he seemed easy going
It seemed like…
He seemed like…
I thought it was..
But it was NOT.
