God gave me a chalice of crimson wine,
it tasted bitter.
then God ordered white lillies to sweeten it.
i drank because they had your name on each petal.
god laughed
"what shit, i thought it would still be bitter"
"I laughed too, a mystic with unreciprocated love,
every petal with my beloved's name makes it sweeter to me.
take your chisel back, i got what filled my void in me"
the angels laughed with god,
this is not what fate was supposed to be,
but what wanting of the heart could bring
chaos to god's design of the wounding heart.
they felt threatened.
Spirits roam free, but with restlessness
abd people make no effort to keep them calm.
OH wounded woman, when will you find calm?
You are the creature of love,
not patriarchal slave.
but why do we feel so disconnected still
when both we're suffering the same hurt
of longing?
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