Red

The color of my pain is Red.

It bleeds…
Oozing from a wound that cannot heal.

It burns…
Roaring like a fire that scorches all it touches.

It rages…
With uncontrollable fury destroying everything in it’s path.

It consumes me… inflames me.
Turns me to ash and then rises again.

– Mamello Maitse

Perfect

She wasn’t perfect…
She never claimed to be.
In fact,
In many ways she was far from it.

But her love…
It was deep,
And it was wide,
Far-reaching…
Consuming,
Full.

But it was also naive…
It was childlike,
And innocent,
Blind…
Forgiving,
Loyal to a fault.

This…
was her love.
This…
was her perfection.


– Mamello Maitse