Oxymoron

It’s empty;

I emptied my anger into the sink.

It’s also full;

I filled it with forgiveness.

It’s hard;

I petrified it to make difficult decisions.

It’s also smooth;

I didn’t devalue feelings.

It is alone;

loneliness is what’s needed now.

It’s also accompanied;

by its loving-substance.

Sometimes it’s starving.

Its materiality needs two hands to enclose it.

It’s also well-nourished;

It’s materiality isn’t the whole of me.

It seems disconnected;

I rarely flirt externally.

It experiences a blissful interconnection;

 — there are no words for this greatness — .

It’s tired;

when I don’t let it be “itself” freely.

It’s tireless;

when I respect it.

It doesn’t follow others’ rhythm;

it is independent.

It experiences co-pulsing with some other hearts, by choice;

it is independent.

It’s got the blues; I’m temporarily blurred

by the Fallacy.

It’s a lifeful source of red rivers;

I returned to Reality.

If it stops, my personality is gone.

If it stops, I move on.

***

Anthi Psomiadou — CC BY-NC-ND 4.0 International : Credit must be given to the creator/ Only noncommercial uses of the work are permitted/ No derivatives