Small pleasures
A baby’s smile
An ice-cold soda
A piece of baklava
a din rises as you speak words tumbling and churning to escape screaming out yearning to hurt words of anger fear and pain seeking to wound in return begging for release aching to aim directly forcefully right at your weakness your flaws the dark corners you try to hide striking out at time’s passage the damage of the years needing to be avenged wanting to be vindicated then softly quietly just below the surface creeping slowly as if still afraid a tiny voice says
forgive
