"since when is forgiveness a better quality than loyalty?"

"but who irons the shirts?"

and there i was in the middle of the desert
sun, sand and silky souls all around me,
the clouds were smirking
while the horizon leaned in close to whisper a secret.

i was alone, i think.
were you there too?
did you notice that i was searching for something?
for hours i walked
guided by the wind's laughter
until i found the sparkling old river.

i rushed forward and fell to my knees.
the water just about touched my lips
when i was prodded awake
by your hands on my hip.

"my tie isn't ironed", you said.

oh well, i thought.

men can love other men, you see,
but who, pray tell, will do the laundry? 

yes, i will forget and forgive.

but how do i erase the writing on the wall ?

remember the time when you walked out on me when we were having lunch?

yes.

and you wouldn't talk to me because i had done the unforgivable?

yes.

and you still found it in your heart to forgive me later?

yes.

so, when do i get to forgive you?

congratulations, in case you didn't get the message.

i'm not hoping you will reply

i'm only hoping that you will want to.

for when the hate has blown its way through,

and anger has lashed out in all its fury,

when frustration and disgust has spilled over

and loathing has washed over us,

there shall still be love.

because our future may be inexistent,

but our past has been carved in stone.

dear mr president,

i permit myself the indiscretion that is this letter to warn you of a perpetual misstep in communication that may come your way in the near future. as your former communications manager, i find it is my duty to inform you that no message is less subtle than a hint thrown at a knowing enemy. in such times, silence is the only reply. silence is the best reply. for your words will easily be misconstrued, but your silence can lend itself to mean anything you desire.

i implore you to keep silent about your state of affaires. it is no longer in my power to solve issues that may be troubling you, but i'm afraid that you may speak too soon, and be forced to accept the sorry circumstances that may follow.

if it was in my power to be your confidante and your enemy at the same time, i would accept this mission without hesitation. but sadly, we both have to consider the fact that no enemy is bigger than the one that sleeps in your bed. and no confidante is less trustworthy than the one you have revealed your secrets to.

yours respectfully,

an old confidante.

you can look,

but you cannot find

someone

to replace

this wicked mind of mine.

you can look,

but you cannot find

someone

to fuck

or beat and bind.

you can look,

but you cannot find

someone

who pretends to hate you

but is just simply kind.

you can look,

and what you will find

is the same old story

but a different pick-up line.

the storm has blown.

i am over you.

and yes,

i am over him too.

1.

yesterday

i dreamt

that i had gone blind.

i was a blind person

trying to pull a string of thread

through the smallest needle's eye.

and then i woke up.

now i can see again;

but i've got blood on my hands.

yesterday

yesterday

i called you.

the telephone operator

kindly reminded me

how lonely i am.

they haven't cleared me for surgery neither.

it is true

it is a fair true thing

that our silence

said more

than our words ever tried to.

it is a fair true thing

that are words

said less

than our silence now aims to convey.

it is a fair sad thing

that my words

and your silence

run into each other so often.

and what if...

and what if i don't

stay this way

forever?