My Only Regret

a_bird_in_a_cage_by_sebowebo-d5esu3r

The only regret that I have
is having regrets-
regretting things that I had
not even attempted yet,
hating myself for making mistakes,
for not being able to change
the things that I couldn’t,
thinking that things end because
they should never have been,
killing myself for wanting to live.

En dehors de ce regret,
je ne regrette rien.

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Protect Your Love

Love is a beautiful spirit
that we get possessed by.
We don’t just feel it,
like happiness or sadness,
it becomes a part of us.

But,

spirits get possessed by other spirits.

Love could get possessed by obsession,
and obsession by jealousy,
and jealousy by violence,
and violence by pain,
and pain by regret,
and regret by hatred,
in no specific order.

Guard your love from the other spirits,
for it can be protected.
Guard it consciously,
before it gets suffocated.
Guard it internally;
guard it gently.

Let your love live.

Dead Love

womanShe always had to ask if he loved her, and he often replied with a “yeah, yeah, love you, sure I do. Why do you keep asking?”

She was looking for the Àjọkẹ́, s’ó n gbọ́ mi? Mo nífẹ̀ẹ́ rẹ. The I am in love with you that was often said with a soft voice and a pleading gaze; it was what she was used to, what she had taken for granted. It was what she really wanted.

She hated herself for hurting a man who used to declare his love for her ever so often, sometimes with tears in his eyes, because he did so. 


There could be two different men in this piece, or just one man [the same man], depending on how you choose to interpret it.

Regrets

When life serves me a plate
or two of happiness,
the me that was, yesterday,
the me that made all those mistakes,
possesses this new me and spits on my plate,
rendering it untouchable and useless.

How do I kill myself without dying?
How do I shoot a part of myself
without getting hurt,
without being in even more pain
than my past causes me every bloody time,
every single time I try to breathe?

How do I kill the me that
made all those mistakes,
the me that drags me into a pool of her
own blood each time she stabs herself?
How do I kill all these bad memories?

If I could kill that me,
I would.
I would blow her heart the fuck out
and keep her brain,
her brains,
all of the extra ones she got
by the time it got too late.
I would shoot her again and again
till my wrists ached,
till everything ached,
till everything healed
and I found relief and peace again,
but I can’t.

I hate them I’m already resting, but in imperfect peace.

I hate that I am resting in pieces.


FIND PEACE & HEALING:

Life will break and kill you
without taking your life;
so, rest in pieces,
but find that important piece of yourself again,
even when it’s hard to put yourself together.
Find peace when all is said and done;
life is full of chances,
seek another.

We die everyday to live.