Najois

Deeply flawed, troubled and damaged, he offered me his love.
I looked upon the platter he offered me as a gesture of his love.
For a moment and in silence, I looked upon his gift of love. Then with disgust, I saw the rotting fruit he had carefully placed as a nobel offering.
Almost immediately and without the slightest hint of compassion, I violently aimed at him and smashed the fruit away from me.

I saw it being crushed upon the floor, the juices flowing through the carpet.

In panic, he tried to recover what was left of his dignity, scraping piece by piece the lumps off the floor.

Of course at that time, I might’ve been deeply selfish and cruel. Not able to know that every offering of love deserves clemency and careful consideration.

Sometimes I wake up at night in sweat and reminisce. I remember that I have never read what was written on the platter.