I don’t know how to say sorry, I am sorry about that. I have always been the one to apologize,apologize for things I have done and things I haven’t. He told me, “Stop apologizing , you aren’t perfect and I acknowledge that.” I found myself saying sorry again and he walked away. So I stopped saying sorry and learnt to tame my tongue.


I did not run after him,what’s the use? Good things never happen to me and if they do,it doesn’t last. Sad,right? I am beating myself up because I want to meet their standards,to make my story align with their plot. I am low as I write this,forgive my bluntness in this piece,look at this barely sentences in and I’m saying sorry again.


He was the liquor burning down my throat,the wild fire resuscitating my soul. The fine tune playing on the vintage jukebox that moved my feet to the dancefloor. I wanted to write about him but he remains my mystery. The secret I whisper in the midnight breeze.


I can’t give what I don’t have,I am lacking in love. I can’t live without air,my chest hurts so bad.  A tear or two that’s just a yawn. Oh fiddlesticks! The river broke it’s banks,it’s a waterfall. Not again, I thought we cried enough already. I can’t really breathe, my lungs feel tight and there’s no air.


It suddenly hurts like losing a friend too fast,no warning or goodbye. It feels like a crack in the earth,falling into an endless blackhole. It’s like a flower dying when in full bloom. A summer with a winter breeze. It made no sense then, right now it feels like I was the burden all along.

broken clay close up crack
Photo by Martins Krastins on Pexels.com

Maybe I will let the water run as it should. Calm my fears like only I can. Dance in the rain on my own because maybe just maybe I’ll calm my storms. My battles are of me and myself. Maybe I’ll stop chasing elements.





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6 Responses

  1. I’m not a fun of art but this is amazing work you doing, keep going the future is bright. ????

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