Villanelles

Insincerity

Mama once told me there could be love

All flowery and sweet as can be.

Yet, there is none void of foxglove.

Felt like I had been made a fool of

When warm words turned beastly.

Mama must’ve lied and said there could be love.

It was supposed to be like a bud

That could bloom and lead to glee.

Yet, there is none void of foxglove.

Truth besets all who are above

‘Till another bawls like a banshee.

Mama once did say there could be love.

Masks have cracked. Time for the mourning doves

For those above. (perhaps) I’ll sow a birch tree

But, there is still none void of foxglove

A blur of whispered sentiments shove

Disgustingly sweet at me in a plea

Like how Mama once said, “There could be love”.

Still, I find there is none void of foxglove.

Home is a Person

You call me a liar but I have never

Said that house was my home.

My home is not set in stone, ever.

If I were someone lesser

I’d simply fill it with honeycombs.

Yet, you call me a liar but I have never.

I see no need to act like a confessor.

It’s harmless truth to say I don't like that gnome

Since my home is not set in stone, ever.

Please do not cry, take a breather.

Even now, while away and in Rome

You still call me a liar but I have never.

Look out the window, interlock our fingers

Feel that warmth? Let us gaze upon the soft gloam.

Know – my home is not set in stone, ever.

My spirit, you have always been so clever.

Listen here, home is wherever you roam.

Please don't call me a liar when I have never

Lied about my home not being set in stone, ever.