Confessions Poetry

Eve’s Love Letter

When you have nothing left to give, what do you show?

Photography by ndidi iroh

I am not the same as you.

I look, how you imagine me too.

Am I beautiful?

Do I hold onto your words?

Do I listen?

I cling, onto every second you speak.

I am desperate for the feeling.

             Everything you breathe,

                                     falls into majesty.

I am not the same as you.


Does anything else remain?

I think this is what it means to be okay.

They sat silently at the desk.

Taking my complaint.

My neighbour is loud.

My landlord makes advances.

My friends don’t listen.

My roommates ignore me.

My lover hates me.

My boss befriends me.

        They tell me it will be okay.

                  Today is my last day.

Do I look the same as you?

Perhaps I am desperate.

Perhaps I am a pitiful pain,

That lives a particular beauty each day.

Somehow I don’t see.

                    I look into the mirror.

                                            I see a beast.  

Perhaps being the same as you,

Is being me?

Would that make me free?

Or naïve.

Photography by ndidi iroh 

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