Therefore...

"Let me ask you about love, because poets know everything about love.

Let me ask you about life since you paint life so vividly.

Let me ask you about truths since you write your truths so effortlessly.

SO tell me about love, my love, since you are a poet.

Tell me about life, my love, since you are a painter

Tell me about truths & sorrow, since your truth are sins & your sorrow forgiveness

Tell me love, teach me, because lately it’s been mirror images of you in my life, beautiful images of what once was mine." He said.

See my truth is nothing but a web of drunken words. I know nothing about love, because I refuse to define what love is.

Because beautiful images of what I created for you, beautiful images of the mess of sins you left behind leave me with KNOWING NOTHING ABOUT LOVE.

Therefore I am not a poet nor am I a painter, I am defined by lust and sorrow, not forgiveness.

I am a lost track of wind and the mirror image of a vice with a first and last name.

I have embraced your tricks that stuck to my skin.

See I cannot teach unconditional love, when I unconditionally love a mistake that turned my seconds into years and my nights into fears.

My minutes into dreams and scenarios of losing the life of the love of my life.

See I cannot be the one to tell you about love, my love…

When I have fixed my exterior to put up a fort that covers my interior with crisp green paper that buy me happiness for the time being.

I cannot tell you about love, when my fall in life was the very fresh essence of emptiness on a sidewalk, my love.

-jossyflowers🌹