I’m tired of unloving the forlorn root of the combustible star. Infancy of immediate wisdom.

Tell me how the air was sweet under the dew of agony feeling the light.

The heart; a rose trembling. The sky loves you with tears in innumerable cloud, condensing into streets.

I am tattered and torn; evaporating into red sleeves upon arms.

My dress sways like midnight on nights unhemmed.

Thoughts falling strong and daintily steady down my expression.

 

What suits you is nothing. I told myself…

 

This is the controversial notion of societies.

There is something to the irrationality of insanity that makes one quiver into wholesome.

My humanity knows this for my soul says so...

 

Crying and unblinded as I see light.

I love you...I say to myself.

 

© Mimi Caneda Mata