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￭ In our image and our likeness
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2013-01-24 | |
I feel so guilty, my dear friend.
Like you, I am an honest person,
I will tell the plain truth this time,
begging you on my trope knees to forgive!
I did what all my brothers did.
Forgive my wild imagery, my baroque chain of metaphors,
my desert without flowers and all my singing out of tune!
Look what I did, open your eyes above your grass roots world.
I made you waste your pristine love,
your timeless memories, your treasured moments.
I drowned your life in despair. I was so lame my friend,
unable to shine brighter, to gather readers for your words
to understand your real feelings.
Iâ€™m a heartbreaker, Iâ€™m ashamed.
No one looked closer in my eyes
to see how many sleepless nights, headaches or smoking abuses
I made you go through,
only because you trusted me, believing Iâ€™ll be good for others.
And the few who read me condemned you
since I wasn't beautiful or attractive for them.
Hell over me! You thought about paradise islands,
your solitude, Robinson Crusoeâ€™s Bible,
white fairies hiding inside cherry trees...
I am the one to blame. I was too greedy to express it all.
Your feelings were forget-me-nots,
I was a voracious weed killing those flowers one by one,
a poisoned mistletoe climbing your tree of wonders.
Do you remember when you ceased bringing life
to my brothers, the other poems?
Werenâ€™t you happier those days?
I donâ€™t call you mom, it is too late for that and I am guilty
for all your poetry dreams or harsh realities, my woman-poet.
I drained your Milky Way full of newborn stars.
I made you feel weak and despised.
Please take it easy, open your eyes,
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