Posted in Creative Writing, Writing

Counselling

Don’t be stubborn.

Don’t be distrusting.

Don’t be so distressed.

Don’t carry the crimes of lost souls, into your new life.

These are the mantras,

I repeat in my mirror,

every morning,

trying hard to adore the idea,

of existing in such an unsure,

unappealing universe.

I don’t mean to be unkind,

but as a great crab once said,

the human world,

it’s a mess,

and,

yes,

I am messy,

but was I born this way,

or am I just the result of my environment?

It doesn’t really matter,

because,

we are where we are,

and I am miming my mantras,

to the mirror,

for far longer than I intended.

He holds onto me,

stubborn and seductive,

as I venture between the valleys,

without leaving his arms.

Maybe one day,

I will free him,

from the sentence my past suitors have inflicted,

on him,

and anyone else I encounter,

so that they do not fall prey,

to a prison,

that they refuse to escape from.

I want him to escape,

so that we can be free,

forever,

together,

but my mantras meld,

into one,

unintelligible mess,

and I forget,

all I remembered,

about how to be in love.

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