FORGIVENESS

It began as all things do that aim to deceive: with beauty.

A rush of color. Bright and full of hope, applied in the gesture of a new beginning.
The first layer: soft, almost healing.
An act of letting go. Allegedly.

Forgiveness.
But none of it was true.

As the painting grew, so did the list.
Invisible, beneath the canvas, etched into thought.
Not forgotten. Stored.

Every color a smiling pain.
Every stroke a memory, carefully preserved.
Not to heal.
But to wait.

The face that devoured its way into the composition came late.
At first just a shadow.
Then a maw.
With teeth.
With hunger.

This forgiveness was no absolution.
It was a sentence wrapped in silence.
Gift wrap around delayed revenge.

The smile: too wide.
The colors: too loud.
The harmony: suspicious.

It is a portrait of deceit:
A soul saying "It´s forgiven," while secretly counting.
How often. How bad. How deep.
When.

The moment of revenge is prepared.
Not openly.
But tenderly
Almost lovingly.
Because nothing is more cruel than forgiveness that is only the silence before the cut.