“Seven Ways I lost You”

I regret falling in love with you—
because loving you in absence
hurts more than never knowing you at all.
I built a home in your heart
but now I wander through ruins alone.
You were the dream that woke me with tears.

I regret our first kiss—
for I can no longer taste the nearness
of your skin, your breath, your body.
That kiss opened a door I can’t close,
and now my lips remember what my hands can’t reach.
It was the beginning of a beautiful ache.

I regret ever touching your soul—
because now your heart is sealed,
and mine still waits at the door.
I offered you my truth, raw and trembling,
but now silence is all you return.
You left me with echoes where a voice once lived.

I regret hearing you say “I love you”—
those words vanished too soon,
like smoke before I could hold them.
You spoke like forever,
but meant only a moment.
Now every “I love you” feels like a lie.

I regret being moved by your romance,
and fooled by its beauty—
for your voice no longer calls my name.
Your promises were petals that withered in my hands,
and your love was a language you stopped speaking.
Now I’m fluent in loss.

I regret the memories we carved together—
because they linger like ghosts,
haunting every dream.
The laughter replays in black and white,
while I wake up to emptiness.
Each moment we shared now cuts a little deeper.

And most of all—
I regret not forgetting you sooner,
because even now, I still ache for what was never truly mine.
I waited for healing, but clung to pain.
You left, but I never stopped looking back.
Some loves are only meant to break us beautifully.

“Your Love Is Like an Ocean Wave”

You say you love me
like thunder loves the sky—
loud, trembling, without doubt.
But when I reach out to you,
all I hold is smoke,
chasing waves that vanish as they rise.
You disappear into silence,
like a storm that promised rain
but never touched the thirsty earth.

You write poems on my phone,
like a smile before sunrise,
but your presence chills me
when I stand beside you.
You call me darling
when the moon is full,
but your eyes look at me
like I’m a stranger
each time we stand face to face.

You love me with beautiful words,
but your heart belongs elsewhere.
You whisper sweet things to me
and leave me in a reality
that feels like a tide
that comes for a moment
and slips away just as fast.

What do you want from me?
A soft body to hold
when your ghosts grow too loud?
A heart to borrow
when yours forgets how to beat?
Am I your comfort,
or simply your convenience?
A switch you flip when it suits you?
A flicker of light
to hide behind when the darkness creeps in?

I’m tired of dancing with shadows
that pretend they are flame.
Tired of loving
a heart that keeps shutting me out.
I’m no longer chasing a feeling
that keeps leaving me empty.
My heart needs shelter,
not stories.
A love that shows up—
not one that speaks in borrowed lines.

Unless your hands
can follow the path of your words,
unless your presence
can match the poetry you send—
don’t call it love.
It’s worse than the sea
throwing me back against the shore.
Colder than a spring
you refuse to protect.

Because real love…
makes itself known.
It stays.
It reassures.
It’s more than words.
More beautiful than hidden lines
in secret messages.
Love is what you do—
when no one is watching.
And I’ve been watching you.

And now,
I’m done giving time
to a ghost,
a shadow of love
that never became real,
that always disappears
like a torn piece of paper
lost in the arms
of a wild and wandering wind.

*See the Kreyòl original in the previous post. The English version is the translation of the original Kreyòl.

“Lanmou w se tankou yon vag lanmè”

Ou di ou renmen m
tankou loraj ki renmen syèl la—
fò, tranble, san dout.
Men lè m lonje men ba ou,
se lafimen m kenbe,
se vag lanmè m ap kouri dèyè l
Ou disparèt nan silans
tankou tanpèt ki te pwomèt dlo
men pa janm mouye tè a.

Ou ekri powèm nan telefòn mwen,
yon souri avan solèy leve
men ou ban m frèt lè m bò kote w.
Ou rele m cheri
lè lalin lan leve
men je w gade m
tankou etranje
chak fwa nou fasafas.

Ou renmen mwen ak bèl mo
men kè ou se pou yon lòt
Ou di m pawòl ki dou
men ou kite m an reyalite.
lanmou sa se vag lanmè
ki vini pou yon titan
e ki ale apre yon ti moman.

Kisa w vle nan men mwen?
Yon kò dous pou w kenbe
lè fantòm ou yo ap pale fò?
Yon kè pou w prete
lè pa w pa bat ankò?
Eske mwen se konsolasyon w
ou oubyen yon konvenyans?
Yon switch ou limen lè ou vle?
Yon limyè pou kache nan fènwa?

M bouke danse ak lonbraj
ki di se dife.
M bouke renmen
Yon kè ou repouse
M pap chache yon santiman
ki toujou fè m defo
kè m bezwen yon repozwa
pou li kache
Yon lanmou ki manifèste
pa sèlman lanmou ki pale mo franse.

Sof si men ou
ka mache ak verite pawòl ou yo,
sof si prezans ou
ka reponn ak mizik powèm ou yo—
pa bay sa non lanmou.
Sa pi mechan pase vag lanmè
ki voye kè mwen kraze sou rivaj solitid,
pi glase pase dlo sous
ou kite koule san ou pwoteje l.

Paske lanmou reyèl…
li parèt tankou limyè ki pa janm etenn,
li poze kò l nan kè yon moun
Li respire.
Li viv.
Li se silans ki pale verite,
plis pase pawòl dous
ki glise nan mesaj kache.
Li pi bèl pase tout powèm ekri anba lalin.
Lanmou se aksyon,
yon jès ki fèt lè tout je fèmen.

E kounye a,
m mete pwen final
sou tan m ap gaspiye
pou yon fantòm lanmou
yon lonbraj ki pa janm tounen kò,
yon rèv ki toujou fonn
nan mitan lannwit.
Li disparèt, chak fwa mwen lonje men,
chak fwa m leve zye m
pou m admire l
li tankou yon fèy papye pèdi
kap vole nan yon van san direksyon,
san desten,
san verite.

*See the english translation in the next post!