Petite mort part two

Just words

                             Petite mort

She was a portrait of beauty.
Her love was locked away, waiting for the perfect man and the gentle embrace.

She asked me. Was any kindness or good left in me? I told her. Some men need to swim in s**t and sin. Can't feel alive unless buried in warm and new flesh. Being drunk and yearning for new highway and place. Some men do want love, a large house and a woman waiting. I have been in s**t so long. I don't know if I know any kind of peace or salvation? You are too pretty and kind. Men like me, want the Long Island ice tea, whiskey kisses and the slow dance. Just the petite mort. Just release of the little want and need that is left.

She smiled and laughed. She told me. All men can be forgiven. No-one is perfect and all of us will fall down often. Just need a place to rest and find peace.

I kissed her forehead and I told her. I wanted the Hemingway death. I found my wars, I'm slowly drinking myself to death and I love the pretty woman and the taverns. I don't know what can be saved? I believe you pay for every sin. I told my father. All sins cannot be forgiven. Dear father beat women and was a violence man. Drank a bottle of run nightly and fought every day of his life. He told me. He was forgiven if he went to church on Christmas night. I told him. God will not forgive repetition sin and bad action.

She looked sad and she asked. Why did you follow your father's ways? Why didn't you choose the good road? We decide our journey. We do not follow our father's path unless we want to know the same ending.

Her eyes observed me with questions. I embraced her, kissed her forehead and face cheeks. I whispered. Some men are searching for the perfect death. Some men need to know the petite mort. Men are just beast when overtook with the hunger for war, flesh and the journey. Please find someone who can love. Dead men cannot love. We are just waiting for death.

                             John Castellenas/Coyote

Author's Note

New prose poem. I hope you like.

Reviews

[June Fowler]

Hummmm...It sure says much more than u like to share John.Its true that dead men can not love but the ones that r alive need not be the same as their fathers were, alas, its all in vain , coz thats what they say, like father like son"! still even the worst man wants and needs love n understanding. No one and nothing is perfect unless we make it c, so its just the person in the end , how he wants to make his life! When u love without expecting anything in return ur much more happier than when u expect and dont get!

Regards,

June

[Coyote Poetry]

Hard to escape father life. I did. His violence made me kinder. We can learn from bad examples. Thank you June for reading and the comment.

[Roxie M]

Interesting, you mention Hemingway in the poem, because when I read the poem for Celia, I thought, this reminds me of Hemingway. Very well done, John. I have one that you may like about a hero, I am going to rummage around for it and post for you.

[Coyote Poetry]

Send me a read request or note. I'm off for awhile and thank you for reading.

[emmajoy]

' I don't know what can be saved? I believe you pay for every sin.'

Well now, these words - all of then.. .. .. just read them twice. Am struck by their honesty, their blatant honesty. Your writing generally comes from your history's deep, deep roots. I weigh your words more than most because there's so often one of two extremes in it: deep sadness or absolute passion.

Seems here there's touches of extremes,: the need for affection if not love yet the awareness of your own weaknesses and influence. Then, John, in the end, wisdom rises and true kindness along with it - even in your own pain, you know better how to be.

[Coyote Poetry]

You are right. I changed. But I believe. All things done good or bad. We must take responsibility for. Thank you my friend for reading and the comment.

[emmajoy]

You're very welcome. Hope your day smiles warmly at and with you, John