How do I unlove you? How do I unlove my sweetest downfall? How do I unlove the first person who taught me how to love? These questions kept me wondering.How? Can I? Will I?
I always wanted to know,how will I unlove you? I know that you don’t love me but that didn’t stop me from loving you. I don’t even think that any dense reason could stop me from doing so. Yet,I came to this realization, that no matter how much I love you, you could never reciprocate the feeling that I have for you.
I even came to this point where I asked myself,until when? Until when will I love you? Until when will I endure this pain? Until when will I drown myself in the sea of tears that I created just because of the agony that you put me into? That’s when I realized that I was holding onto something that didn’t exist anymore. At that moment, all I wanted to do was to cease my love for you.
But I don’t think I could do that. Well I can,but I won’t. Maybe some can,but if you love someone, that love you have for them just won’t go away. Yeah,you may meet someone better,but once you let someone into your heart,there will always be a piece of them in there. Every person that we love leaves a mark in our hearts. And you left a big mark in my heart. Scratch that. You left a massive scar in my life.

There's a woman, in the basement, still
Her screams, they wake me at night
She eternally beats on the walls
Yet, no freedom, none in her sight
33 days, kept in the damp,
The dark
Those 33 days of night,
Have forever left their mark
Her finger nails gone,
From scratching at concrete
I hear her praying
To the creator, she wishes to meet
Her voice loud, though hoarse and cracked
Ringing forever in my ears
And somehow, I know I'll hear her screams
Every night and day, All the rest of my years

Right now
in your kitchen
on the bottom rack of the dishwasher
resides a secret;
a dark spot on your soul –
a malignant little horror
that threatens to destroy
your sense of self worth.

Maybe it’s a butter knife
with an in-congruent rust spot
on one side of the blade…
Maybe it’s a random salad fork,
the final piece remaining
from a long forgotten flatware set,
with a fossilized chunk of radicchio
lodged between the third and fourth tines.

Probably it’s the fork.

There it has sat
without being moved;
without being touched;
just existing as the metaphor that it is
for 8 straight wash cycles.
The result has never varied.
The dirt remains.

Soon will come a ninth wash cycle.
You hope that things will change.
You know that they will not.
Despite this unwavering conviction
that the fork will always be *****,
the next time you run the cycle,
open the dishwasher door,
peer through the gauzy veil
of lemon scented fog
and see the small bit of filth
you will still feel disappointed.
You will grow a little bitterer.
You will be a little more contemptuous.
The world will be a deeper shade of gray.

It doesn’t have to be this way.

You can go
right now
into the kitchen
to the bottom rack of the dishwasher and
reach down
with a trembling hand
to grasp destiny.

You are bigger than this fork.
You are bigger than this fork.

You
are bigger
than this fork.

With a sense of control firmly clasped between your fingers
take that 15 uncomfortable seconds
to scrape away the debris with your thumbnail
and then be free.

BE FREE

Deep and resounding will be
the sigh of relief;
the utter completion;
the contentment absolute
that you experience
when you place that clean salad fork
back in the drawer.

It will never match
the new silver
that your In-Laws gave you last Christmas, but
at least it will be clean and
in its home
safely ensconced
in that wire organizer.

Right now
in your kitchen
on the bottom rack of the dishwasher
is a chance for redemption.

Even the smallest of tree,
has an incredible,
and beautiful,
story,
of how it came to be.

Ma Cherie  © 2017

he was always
wanting, waiting
to take this walk with me

back turned at the edge of the woods
I called to him, said I was coming

and when I arrived at his side
our feet synced and tongues entwined
in stride, aligned and winding along
this colloidal ladder of a path
inside vines climbing into curls

we were so green

verdant bloom mouthing heartbeats
in synchronic lightstreams

remember when
we stepped into the clearing
where treetops parted for the sky
we both looked up, then laid down
inside the other's mind
neither push nor pull
but stilled

entranced
by backlit rhythmic ribs
arising and ebbing harmonic
bathing in the shores of soul
they dive deeper, you know...

it didn't matter
when the rains came
because you stayed with me
even though you bemoaned
the falling wet charcoal
I tousled your ashen hair
and listened

then I straddled you
and spoke of rainbow spectrums
visible only
after the clouds cry

and you
you let me
crawl inside your ear
with whispers of black-lined blissings

and in that instant
the sky vibrantly bowed
arcing prismatic across rays
bestowing halos on us both
imperfect beings
perfectly seeing

save more money
by not throwing so much ****
into wishing wells for something
that you already know will never happen.

It seems to run it's softness through your hair
Like I want to do
The closeness to how it dribbles onto your face
And the smooth as it looks like tears
The rivers of it down your shoulders and catches the slopes of your neck
How I love how it pools on your chest
And it the water loves to kiss you how I want to
In showers of rain