(first poem in my first poetic compilation–Sweet and Sour Leaves)

I kept me for you—
Pure—beautiful—wholesome!—untainted with stinky-sticky stains.
I kept myself for you—
Upright—focused—successful—damsel dangerously in love with her duke—
Not so much you, Man
But, rather, the thought of you which— prior to your prancing into my heart,
And cardiac arresting my soul—I so obsessively, under the compulsion of my gratifying craving for perfection—your perfection for my satisfaction—

I dressed you in—even though the coat was not your size and the shoes weren’t just quite right.

Lover of my soul, you think—
In your little-twisted-creepy-crawler mind, you deduced that you banged against the walls of my morals and values—like a sleek thief without any airs and graces, you cleared the full fridge of my soul before you executed the main theft of all that I owned— me— you desecrated the alter of my ego and alas,
I made you believe,
I made you believe,
I made you believe,
that you stole the treasures of this holy island

This promised land
This land swamped with milk and honey and fattened locus and a golden pot of molten dimes—the tears of fallen kings that failed to conquer my body!

You wannabe liar—thief—killer—destroyer of your own make-believe.
You fucking molester! tainted with sin, transgressor of my once spotless spirit.
How could you stoop so low and become like the dust is with the earth—motherfucking dirt!

All along you thought you trampled on me—entirely!
When it has been me; meek lamb in the lone shed,
Who has kept myself in await for you—willingly!
Like the Messiah who shed his precious blood on holy Calvary,
You never had to pay for my love (gift)—crimson!—deep fiery red is the colour of my tears (I came free for you),
Deep fiery red is the anger that I feel for making you believe that you were Spectacularly Honoured In Totality!
Deep fiery red is the medical aid that I prescribed to myself after you blindly—bare blackness! (primitive?)— leaped of the ledge of my heart and crushed my trust, in arrogance, you prowled like the lion that you are…seeking me to devour—manhandle!
Forgetting that only I can pull the thorn underneath your paw…

When you cry, the earth quivers underneath me.
When you cry, the world crumbles in me.
When you cry, I—come—running.
And I do all these not because you deserve me—you are not worthy of the silver stream I spit to the earth in repugnant remembrance of you.
I do all these not because you have paid any price
I do all these because it was you,
In the beginning and in the end,
It was you I kept myself pure, clean—saintly—suave, successful for
Devil, you
I gave you transcendent features—wolf in sheep clothing, snake in frog suit—you!

So, confident lover of my soul you are
With your nose in the air
Your head up above clouds and
Your feet dancing among the flotsam
I hope it pleases you to know that I do not love you but rather
I am a damsel dangerously in love with the thought of you and now that I have left you begging and pleading for mercy—tacitly!—like the rundown voyageur on the pathway
I hope it pleases you to know that I have left you patched, broken and scraped!
Bleeding in pain, sane with grief! but insane with shame. I have left you like the dashes on these leaves although I remain mad like the exclamation mark standing upright forever self-protective (fence)—holding, coherently, the scares of the past like sand granules to the earth
Of your downcast ego—dirt!