I don’t regret anything
To my past lovers
Year after year with no address
Without a single mention of your existence
Although if I really wanted to, I would have found a way
To be closer to each of you
I doubt I would be appreciated
My soul would not be equal to my body
Because only the body they wanted
While the only thing I really cared about in my life
It is the part that cannot be seen on the ground
But will remain after my departure
The more esteemed part, denser, richer, more colourful, more intense
Like the hues of flowers in spring
They send their secret signals to the bees
“Here I am, pollinate me! Make me yours!”
That’s what I genuinely think
I needed you to discover the flavours of life
The ones I couldn’t approach as a single
It gave me an idea for a life that I never wanted to pursue
Anyway, I didn’t even have a chance to encounter perfect love
The first – unrequited; the second – bold; by the third my heart was already cold
Never learned to give as all takes have been spoiled
Incorrectly taken, rejected, flawed
And seriously? Now I don’t care much
I have a passion, just not for love
Once my heart was broken it turned to stone
Yet it gave me a rough and sharp view
About a path I desperately wanted to follow
Didn’t quite know back then where it would lead me
I have found myself in here so many times, on a single white sheet
Instead on a white sheet in a double bed
You never wanted to keep me, you spat me out in the end
So why should I care?
My only regret is that none of you really wanted my soul
Most ungratefully thrown at you
So, I guess not having me around
It’s your greatest sin of all
Hope you are all happy
In your own version of the success you believe in
Which was never equally mine
And I must shamelessly admit that I never regret it
*
18 December 2021
revised on 29 September 2022
***
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About the Creator
Mescaline Brisset
if it doesn't come bursting out of you
in spite of everything,
don't do it.
unless it comes unasked out of your
heart and your mind and your mouth
and your gut,
don't do it.
so you want to be a writer? – Charles Bukowski
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