Mother
Posted: January 23, 2016 Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: broken, mother, prodigal daughter, reflection, relationships, selfless love Leave a comment
People tell me I look like you
You, who bore me on a balsamic moon.
You said life was no easy for you
So you try to amend the past with me.
You guided me through and through
But kept haunting secrets only you knew.
You would suddenly hug me at night
That I had to breathe because it was tight.
When I had to leave for my dreams
Your eyes looked so painful and in tears.
You wanted me to stay in the nest
But I was stubborn that I still went away.
I said I wanted to live the world
But you said the world would eat my heart.
Remembering those days still hurt
Whenever you would send me your letters.
And that I realize that you’re right
But it was just too late to turn back time.
Time when I was still in your arms
With the peace I never found with the world.
How can such a simple single word
Mean so much to my whole existence?
I pray time to be merciful to me
So I can finally utter the words ‘forgive me.’
Braveheart
Posted: December 3, 2015 Filed under: Free Verse, Uncategorized | Tags: life, lifepath, reflection, trust Leave a commentMy life is a series of pain
Often the first people I meet
Were always the first ones to leave
Like a wind that just passed through.
It still hurt, yes, I ask myself why
I am always placed in these fateful encounters
Going through the circles and cycles
Of betrayals and of putting knives behind one’s back.
Often the first cut is the deepest
A slow torture that cannot be easily forgotten
Replaying like a movie in my head
Haunting my very existence.
It is almost always hard to let go
Oh, I will always know when
It was time to move on
I hurts to always say the last goodbye.
I form attachments I know will hurt
Full of bruises yet still unbroken
Full of false hopes yet still faithful
Until I had to put up a wall.
So now you ask why I was slow to trust
Now you ask why silence was the only thing you got
Dear, there’s more to silence than meets the eye
It speaks in volumes the only little forgotten things that matter.