Stale soap, old walls, distant memory

find its way into repressed spaces

left alone through years of living-

I was innocent once

when twice intrusive faces

burned images in places

where innocence flourish,

salted ground left in twisted

vines growing into who I am.

I was innocent once

young fingers not meant to explore

soft petals, a sacrifice lamb

for gods of lust and pleasure.

Do you remember before?

Sometimes in dreams I can

and then wonder,

if I was innocent once.



“How happy is the blameless vestal’s lot!
The world forgetting, by the world forgot.
Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind!
Each pray’r accepted, and each wish resign’d”
Alexander Pope, Eloisa to Abelard


5 thoughts on “Foist

  1. moonskittles says:

    This brings about a question we all ask. What happened to it. For sure it is lost, and we are all trying to make-believe that it is still here..
    Enjoy your weekend ahead!

    • Hector says:

      Thank you Dajena. Innocence is like a flower blooming deep in a jungle with no one to smell its fragrance, untouched. I can imagine such flower but cannot see it or smell it.

  2. As always you leave me thinking wonderfully written.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s