Forgiveness In the Name, Her Name or My Name? by The Un{told}

To be hurt and cold at a sight of pain, but also a deserved sight of pain, is the portrait of her mistakes for that she must … she should … lay in the bed with them, as she used to lay with me. It’s with them that she should grow old, with them that she should cry and whisper my name, a name rotten and empty I must say, but that in her heart, she begs for the otherwise.

In the past she would give me a tiny piece of heaven, with feathers and leather, in the clouds to hide her doubts so that in the night I would lay next to her and say my thanks to the moon without knowing that she was in fact, my doom.

And we would sang and drank all the way to the bottom, all the life that we shared all that love that she had, or claimed to have, and my bliss became the Ignorance because I was naïve and so, but I loved her and I still do by forces that no man match. As the winters grow colder, my heart still lay in her empty bed by her portrait, were she begs forgiveness. Now I lay cold, without knowing what to do, what music do listen to bring her trust and erase this hurt.

I love her but the pain and the hate stain the painting that the portrait holds, she must pay all the coins that she tossed at me, she must pay, oh she will pay. I would not die for her, but I would live for her, but I will never bow to her, as once.

Purple Dress
Bring me from this mess
Rise our love from the dead
And show me regrets, emends

Don’t forget the past
That you cast
On your self

Embrace your actions
They where once your Intensions
Forgiveness has a price
Your pain I ask you not to hide

Pain is the currency I want her to know so that she can grow, the price of a cold heart, my heart. Mistakes, for them she must live, with them she bread bread, with she shall sink.

(1-12-2010)