If I Misspoke

If I misspoke it wasn’t my intention, but we were like two sisters gossipping, and I forgot that you are really an old lonely man

I hoped there would be a sacred space created from the years we had spent apart
I envisioned fairytales, I agonized over prayers, I willed benedictions from the pope for us, and the sacrament we had created from our lonely bodies

Then I realized, sage doesn’t always come with age,
we’ve become two stones that refused to be moved, content with where we’ve been, too selfish to move even an inch closer

You and I wanted the convenience and leisure of our own hours, love became a hobby to us,
when we said the words, “I love you”, we were drunk with mad insincerity,
intimacy was a gasp inside, a haunted whim that tantalized, all eternity played
with our senses, and the illusion of my love for you made me into a quivering girl, sucking the gap between your teeth,


There were the raw and casual conversations I had with myself
always about you, never included you

Truth be told there was no more vacancy inside my heart,
Jesus needed to open up an extra space
cuz the hatred is stronger now

Oh, then there is my little girl popping her Prozac, and the circus of meds that cannot cure her
I am occupied with her needs, and the needs of the rest of the dysfunctional family,
I’ve committed myself to, there is a marriage in all of that
not necessarily a husband

Everyday I sip on very large diet sodas, visiting me in every room,
my constant companion, my soul mate is caffeine,
there is a very real relationship to addiction

My youth has passed into deeper places, where emotions start splitting and chopping themselves up to fit into the small structures in the mind,
shelving and re-shelving
compartmentalizing themselves,
when the bridges inside have all collapsed, and the good intentions
quickly slip into quicksand

I’ve lost the truth of what it means to have and love a man
perhaps love loses its power in translation
I searched too often over the mirrors of the past, not being able to move
without shattering the images of lovers that are no longer real

we have passed into legend, into the mythical worlds of centaurs and unicorns where we no longer exist
there is no word spoken bravely enough as love, in the mansion of it’s intent
there are many rooms

I am like a child lost in its gothic grandeur, so many possesssions in ourselves, we are unwilling to let go
there is no abandon anymore, no surrender , when the battles we have waged within ourselves continue,
by this time no longer soldiers willing to take orders, now generals in charge of whole battalions, we are without humility
the decorations and the wounds that now cover us, no turning back


If I Misspoke

Matty B. Duran

Joined July 2009

  • Artist
  • Artwork Comments 2

Artist's Description

A poem about losing the power of love. Then I realized you can never lose The One Who Is Love. Everything else is a cheap imitation. Only God gives us the ability to Love. It is borne through The Holy Spirit. It is His Fruit.

Artwork Comments

  • Retroeight
  • Matty B. Duran
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