It’s not love

They say “it’s love”
But it’s not

Love is not
About making people
Feel like they count for nothing

Love is not
About making people
Feel guilty all the time

Love is not
About making people
Think they are monsters in disguise

Love is not
About causing people pain

Love is not
About making people
Suffer and cry

Some mums don’t love
They manage
They manipulate
They kill slowly
The ones they ought to love the most

They say
“You’re my child but I can’t stand you”

So stop thinking “it’s love”
It’s not
It’s possession
It’s having someone
They can destroy at will
Slowly…
Without people noticing it

Cause they’re mums
And mums don’t hate
They love

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Step by step

Copyright Marie Kléber

(It was like this before
I would stay behind
I would not ask
I would keep my voice down
I would say “I understand”
And not getting anything of what was said

Just so I won’t feel vulnerable

It was like this before
People laughing
Kids playing
Teachers pointing at me
Bad marks
Unhappy feelings

It was like this before
Fitting in
Staying unseen
Playing it by the rules
Ackowledging mistakes I didn’t make

Every step is a change
In a new direction
Allowing myself to be
Vulnerable
And yet
Strong

Every day I release old scars
Moving on to brighter days
Where being myself
Is not seen as a failure
Anymore

A wish

Copyright MK

I wish I could

Break at dawn
Inside your space

Wrap myself
Around your breath

Being ourselves

Copyright Marie Kléber

There was something before him. I wrote everything. I remember half of it. His love – today – does even change the past. Not what happened. But how I relate to it.

It’s less and less painful. I am moving to a place where  I know myself better. Where I understand what happened better too.

Fear, it was.

Fear of not being accepted. Not being loved. I mean not being loveable. Or enough. Yes, this is it. These people who drag you down, they see themselves before seeing you. They think they are close to perfection. And you, not. You are millions steps away from it. And their job is to make you better. You should even feel blessed to have crossed their path. This is just bullshit.

They’re fake.

So we were fake together. We didn’t work. We were not happy. Obviously. We got together for the wrong reasons. I was looking for recognition. I wanted to be useful. I wanted to count. And I got nothing but poor attention. I couldn’t count cause I wouldn’t match the perfect image of the perfect wife in a perfect mariage.

That’s it. Part of life experiences. I got lucky to escape and start again. It’s like winning the World Cup – I guess. Being able to stop the mess and start on a new track. Better road. Better people. No contest. Just be. Just love. Just live.

 

Just the two of us

Copyright Marie Kléber

Kids love full houses. Voices. And people. And playing. Laughing. Games and big tables. Snacks and treats.

Maybe it’s the hardest part. The one that says, on a daily basis, it’s just the two of us.

Just him and me.

And seeing him missing something. The people. The voices. The fun. The funny part of life. Missing his friends as soon as we are back home. Missing his grand-parents as soon as they are back home.

When I feel down, I feel guilty.

But some days are good. Some days are even great fun. Just the two of us.

But I know he is in need of something more. So we go out. And spend days with family. And we meet people. And I try not to feel blue too often, or at least leave the blues for later. When he is in bed. And I remember the chance we have to be where we are.

We can never be sure to do it right.

We just try our best.

Isn’t it what we all do?

A place of freedom

Copyright Marie Kléber

I knew somehow that it was within me
This freedom
This wish to experience
And enjoy life to the fullest

I took a road
Not the wrong one
Just one that took me so far away from myself
Far from joy
Far from life

I got a taste of what it is to become
Someone else
To behave like a robot
Learning what to do and how to do it well

I got to taste living in a place
Where emotions were
to be buried inside
Where some subjects were
Dangerous to talk about
Where a word could be a weapon

I knew somehow that one day I would breath again
I would smile and laugh and experience
I would have fears that I could conquer
I would know love
And what it means to feel free to show my feelings
To talk about my dreams
To express who I am
In so many different ways

Breath whispers

Copyright Marie Kléber

You carry my breath
When you hold me
Tight into your own breath

I slip into bliss
Like a whisper in the
Morning blush

Loving you

There is no craziness in loving you.

Just the knowledge that it is true. The way I feel and the way I deal with life. The growing confidence.

I believe there is nothing to understand. Just to be and appreciate the chance we have to walk side by side on the road of our lives.

We will never know where it takes us. It can be scary  at times. And yet I choose to focus on the good and forget the rest.

I can tell that I knew deep down that this day would come. I spent years searching for myself in the ruins of my past, so that when you will step inside my space, I coud be free to let you come and surprise me.

And if I have doubts or fears some days, I look within as I know it’s there that all the answers are.

Loving you is like a crazy firework enchanting my every day life!

Where we belong…

Copyright Marie Kléber

There will come a time
When
Whatever the road you chose
You will know
You are
Where you ought to be

Leaves dancing in the trees
Will remind you
Of a long-time dream buried
In the shadows
Of childhood memories

The opalescent stars
Carrying the names of lost ones
Will guide your steps
From a place of fear
To a place of love

You will know
There is nothing to lose
In this life
As nothing belongs to you

You can only be
And when you are
In this state of being
You are carrying the world
In a seashell made
Of gold and grace

Magical heart

Copyright Marie Kléber

Never forget the dream
One day memory
Of a love without boundaries
Free
Secure
And wild
A love that you could only feel
With your whole heart
Open to magic