Best Mistake

Dear Mistake,

Every time I tried to swim in my own pool of liberation,
the supremacy of your love drowned me.
Every time I tried to maintain my own part of loyalty,
I felt that you were trying to win over other women.

My love, I fell in love with you, over the fret-board.
It took me a few months to get used to your voice.
It might take years to fade away now, but I will always remember that you loved me, and that you lied to me, and that you assured me, that you were mine.

You see, I’m a woman.
And I can’t risk my share of love.
But now there’s a big stone in my heart and no scans can detect it.

I wasn’t meant to be weak, you know, sweetheart.
Or it might be that I’m just holding on to a false sense of strength.
I’m a March baby and I’m not supposed to commit the same mistakes, twice.
Contrary to that, I committed the same mistake, for the third time.
And it makes me feel that love is a mistake in itself.
But let’s not talk about that ’cause love is a beautiful thing, right?
It might be that I’ll meditate and perhaps, levitate to a higher level where I don’t meet people like you anymore.
How about that?

You see, I’m a woman.
And unlike body cells, my feelings don’t rejuvenate.
But now there’s a big stone in my heart and no scans can detect it.

My love, you were nice and brainy.
You knew that I hated myself, didn’t you?
Despite what popular cultures say, I could never really sense myself falling in love with my own smell.
And guess what? I still hate myself.
But don’t worry, I don’t hate you as well.
I only hate myself for allowing you to hurt me.
I hate every breath I take and I wish that I wasn’t awake.

You have never loved me less,
And I wish that you never do so.
I used to love you and it might be that I still do, or later on, when I’m putting those white flowers on your stone.

You see, I’m a woman.
And no matter how much strange you make me feel, I will hold on to you.
I will love you.

My love, you are no longer my need now ’cause I want you.
And I’m not going to leave you, at least not any sooner.
But for now, forgive me for this paramour now that my soul is solely mine.
With no future hopes to conceive a child,
with no more sweet songs to sing,
I’ll take a long drag of smoke, only to try and bring me back to life, paradoxically.