Someone lied to me so much.  So very much that if they were near me and the air they breathed came around me,  I would die because my body wouldn’t believe it was the air anymore. 


The seventy fifth time


The seventy fifth time I repeat.

It’s okay.

It’s a ritual of each breath

Breathe in

Breathe out

Caught myself from falling down

And Collapsing in a heap

Bitter judgement

Better thoughts

Are yet to come.


The seventy fifth time I repeat

It’s okay

Believing in my voice

Is harder than before

It falters every bit

Settles the score

Of haunted dreams

Manifested in sound

It quivers with sadness

Built on hope


The seventy fifth time I repeat

It’s okay

Closing my eyes

Blocking the beauty

Blinding me from within

Hate rising up to my eyes

Brimming with tears

Ready to gush out

Soaked with shame

Of plenty weak moments


The seventy fifth time I repeat

I repeat it’s okay

I repeat it’s fine

I repeat it’ll get better

I repeat the sun will be kind

The moon will care

And the body will dare

Another chance at  love

Hoping for escape

From despair.

I Little titles of existence 


I have exhausted my capacity of loving.  I have loved you with a million little pieces of my soul.  Giving you a million little pieces of myself.  I am done. 


Now.  Its about the million little pieces of me that you threw away on the way to moving on.  Where do I search for them?   Where do I find myself? Pick me up and bind myself. 


And if I do find a piece or two lying around the old haunts,  how do I extract myself from them? I don’t have the energy. I don’t have the will.  I wander aimlessly in search for myself, not wanting to be myself. 


Why don’t I grow a million little pieces again?  Form myself whole, again. 

How?  How do you ask a flower to Bloom after it has wilted?  It dies. And seeds. There are seeds.  I have seeds.  Where do I plant them? My body feels barren. 


Where did all the potential for my future go?  Down the drain with a million little pieces. Barren mind full of sadness, only more sadness it begets. 

I am not fertile.  I am sad.  Sadness grows on me birthing a million little pieces of sadness. 


It takes a million little breaths and slight pauses to calm myself down. To breathe fully and hope to regain enough energy to build upon the barren land a fertile Base where I can flourish once again. 


I had.  Million little pieces full of me and my hope. Lost. 


I do.  Million little pieces of hard work on Unconditional and undying. Lost.

And then my fried said. 

I couldn’t have forgiven all that you’ve forgiven

But really though.  I hadn’t.  I had thought I had forgiven but I had just let things hang around like and albatross on the neck and tried to deal with seeing the lie  the deceit,   the mean hurtfullness and the abundance of disregard every single day.  Yes.  I had said the words.  I forgive you.  I had put on a pretence of putting the relationships in right places and agreed to myself that I will think this did not happen.  I was wrong.  This is not how it works.  To forgive,  really you must accept what happened and not pretend like it never did.  Forgiveness is not forgetting.  Forgiveness is  to forfeit your claim on the crime and let things happen like they’re happening now,  without being clouded over by what happened. Forgiveness comes to me now,  now when I understand why what happened happened and can take a step back and say “it’s okay,  I hope it never happens again”.  Now when I can love with the same force as before I knew about the bad deeds.  Now when I can see the same person who hurt me with eyes not clouded by their actions.  So. Dear friend. It looked like I forgave a lot but I didn’t.  I just tried to .  It took a lot to even come to a point where I decided to forgive certain things but I couldn’t completely understand the dynamics of Forgiveness then.  So I didn’t forgive what you couldn’t ,  but I tried and that’s taken me places I couldn’t have seen without deciding to try.