nabilayannis - Hello Poetry

She glanced over the smooth LED. Looking for digits. She might be late that day. She thought to herself. "Eh. I always have time. Time is what they say, constricted. But no, It's just relative." She frees herself from justified worries. She lives in that realm For years. And more years to come. 8:39 am. May 12th, 2026

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May 11

May 11, 2026 at 11:43 PM UTC

Everything is Contradictory

She glanced over the smooth LED. Looking for digits. She might be late that day. She thought to herself. "Eh. I always have time. Time is what they say, constricted. But no, It's just relative." She frees herself from justified worries. She lives in that realm For years. And more years to come. 8:39 am. May 12th, 2026

14

Once I’ve glanced into the depth of the void. Only to find myself alight. So bright it dissipated. Once I’ve walked where light originates. Only to find I had become a black hole. So greedy. Too greedy, it swallowed everything whole. Once I stayed inside my cave. In my corner. Where I resided all the trinkets I’ve collected. Carefully organised. Marked. To be looked at. Held, Analysed. I think to myself, “This is it. It’s alright.” 9 pm 9/4 ‘26

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Apr 9

Apr 9, 2026 at 11:49 PM UTC

The Rarely Taken Path

Once I’ve glanced into the depth of the void. Only to find myself alight. So bright it dissipated. Once I’ve walked where light originates. Only to find I had become a black hole. So greedy. Too greedy, it swallowed everything whole. Once I stayed inside my cave. In my corner. Where I resided all the trinkets I’ve collected. Carefully organised. Marked. To be looked at. Held, Analysed. I think to myself, “This is it. It’s alright.” 9 pm 9/4 ‘26

16

Slumps. Strained eyes. Weary heart. I’ve been kept in this state for as long as I can remember. The more I see, the more I perceive. The more I get why it’s easier to despise. Well. It is not hatred. It never is. It’s a punishment of knowing too much. Or less? Who knows. No one does anymore. I’ve been kept in this state... For as long as I can remember. Weary heart. Strained eyes. Slumps. 1:42 am 10/4 ‘26

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Apr 9

Apr 9, 2026 at 11:45 PM UTC

"Great Nation"

Slumps. Strained eyes. Weary heart. I’ve been kept in this state for as long as I can remember. The more I see, the more I perceive. The more I get why it’s easier to despise. Well. It is not hatred. It never is. It’s a punishment of knowing too much. Or less? Who knows. No one does anymore. I’ve been kept in this state... For as long as I can remember. Weary heart. Strained eyes. Slumps. 1:42 am 10/4 ‘26

17

Under my fingers, you shiver Your fever hasn't subsided It's been long hours you've lain ill I am blaming the arrow. Blaming the war. Blaming you. But I have no heart to say all of these, As I dip a cloth to wipe your skin.. And wish to God that you will be alright.. Your arms.. Tested and strong Yet covered with scars and fresh wounds.. The further I trace over your skin, The heavier my breath becomes My handsome liege.. A weak sigh I never want to let out in your presence, escapes me.. I turned my eyes to our pavilion entrance, The sun has yet to descend to horizon, and still the golden ray drapes over us all. The air is filled with every taste of agitation and suspicious wondering eyes.. Our men have not uttered any words since they brought you back. Nor dared to ask, And I dared not to tell "It wouldn't have happened had you listened," Another protest chimes in my mind "My lady," a weary, coarse whisper I am familiar with My heart drops, My tears rushing its way out.. Relief washes over me.

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Jul 12, 2025

Jul 12, 2025 at 6:45 AM UTC

A Wistful Thinking

Under my fingers, you shiver Your fever hasn't subsided It's been long hours you've lain ill I am blaming the arrow. Blaming the war. Blaming you. But I have no heart to say all of these, As I dip a cloth to wipe your skin.. And wish to God that you will be alright.. Your arms.. Tested and strong Yet covered with scars and fresh wounds.. The further I trace over your skin, The heavier my breath becomes My handsome liege.. A weak sigh I never want to let out in your presence, escapes me.. I turned my eyes to our pavilion entrance, The sun has yet to descend to horizon, and still the golden ray drapes over us all. The air is filled with every taste of agitation and suspicious wondering eyes.. Our men have not uttered any words since they brought you back. Nor dared to ask, And I dared not to tell "It wouldn't have happened had you listened," Another protest chimes in my mind "My lady," a weary, coarse whisper I am familiar with My heart drops, My tears rushing its way out.. Relief washes over me.

30

On this beach where lies the memories, tangled in between the sea fairies’ wings and hidden between the algae. I am sitting on a driftwood bench with the Sun He told me, “i will hang for a while, you seemed lonely” “Radiant,” the first thing i said to him. “Thank you, many people seemed to say otherwise,” he replied. and for a while i sat on a driftwood bench on this beach. overlooking the black sand all over us, with equally black water on the beyond. They seemed to be on my toes, my legs, my arms, Because when wetness meet the rough, it’s just adhesive. “You are one to live in denial, aren’t you? ,” i opened another conversation “Well aren’t you too?,” a quick comeback. He expected a laugh, he did a good job for a light joke there. Too soon. because what i said next was, “Yea, it’s easier that way.” He moved closer, offering warmth I’ve longed for. “I’ve heard of you from my wife, you used to tell her stories. She looked after you even though you didn’t ask as you pestered her with the stories.” I pulled my wet black hair to the back of my ears, and looked him in the eyes, “yea, she heard you, she heard every story.” The thunder hurling from afar, though gray clouds which once were hanging, started to drift apart. “Never feel lonely. we’re here for you.”

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Jul 8, 2025

Jul 8, 2025 at 11:18 AM UTC

Lazarus

On this beach where lies the memories, tangled in between the sea fairies’ wings and hidden between the algae. I am sitting on a driftwood bench with the Sun He told me, “i will hang for a while, you seemed lonely” “Radiant,” the first thing i said to him. “Thank you, many people seemed to say otherwise,” he replied. and for a while i sat on a driftwood bench on this beach. overlooking the black sand all over us, with equally black water on the beyond. They seemed to be on my toes, my legs, my arms, Because when wetness meet the rough, it’s just adhesive. “You are one to live in denial, aren’t you? ,” i opened another conversation “Well aren’t you too?,” a quick comeback. He expected a laugh, he did a good job for a light joke there. Too soon. because what i said next was, “Yea, it’s easier that way.” He moved closer, offering warmth I’ve longed for. “I’ve heard of you from my wife, you used to tell her stories. She looked after you even though you didn’t ask as you pestered her with the stories.” I pulled my wet black hair to the back of my ears, and looked him in the eyes, “yea, she heard you, she heard every story.” The thunder hurling from afar, though gray clouds which once were hanging, started to drift apart. “Never feel lonely. we’re here for you.”

19

Strolling Sauntering Down the tropical alley Her eyes are soft, rounded Hidden well behind her sharp thin shades Her hair is black and bouncy Framing her gentle chin Those lips deep burgundy In her cone, soft-serve, strawberry Her tongue licks it over and over, You wished it was you, secretly Her dress is airy Flowy and flowery Smells like those daisies Perfect for showcasing her beauty She’s steady She’s ready She’ll make you fall if she may And she’ll **** for a pay And her eyes are on you Behind those shades of blue Her eyes are on you In between those strands of hair, blown by the wind, She will use that Girl Mini, her words will be the last thing you hear, as her muzzle touches your skin, “Bonne nuit, mon rayon de soleil.”

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Jul 8, 2025

Jul 8, 2025 at 11:15 AM UTC

Soft-Serve Strawberry

Strolling Sauntering Down the tropical alley Her eyes are soft, rounded Hidden well behind her sharp thin shades Her hair is black and bouncy Framing her gentle chin Those lips deep burgundy In her cone, soft-serve, strawberry Her tongue licks it over and over, You wished it was you, secretly Her dress is airy Flowy and flowery Smells like those daisies Perfect for showcasing her beauty She’s steady She’s ready She’ll make you fall if she may And she’ll **** for a pay And her eyes are on you Behind those shades of blue Her eyes are on you In between those strands of hair, blown by the wind, She will use that Girl Mini, her words will be the last thing you hear, as her muzzle touches your skin, “Bonne nuit, mon rayon de soleil.”

25

Countdown It’s almost as sure as the apocalypse, or centennial planetary alignments, as old as time and as sure as the sun setting, its rising, it’s within the air, waiting. An ancient curse spelled on us ever since the dawn of the day, ever since our inceptions. Yet this second, all of that doesn’t matter. When my pink nail beds, shone under our dimmed, warm, bedroom light. As my fingers races each others all over the warm surface, the trails I left on you are beaming, you’re incandescent. Almost looks like cracked earth’s surface with lava underneath. The true you peeking through. And when you sighed the deepest sigh, I can almost hear primal bellow ripping through, the hunger, the thirst, the longing, the glistening molten gold, ready to drench and mold me into one of your statues, and with your faintest lick from my collar bone to my left earlobe, in between these sheets and my moan you whisper, “Nothing is permanent, my baby.“ And I think it’s safe to say that I am about to burst my bubble. As I burst under you, with my half-closed teary eyes, blurry, And my longing mouth opened, looking for yours. And you keep thrusting me even after, spasm-inducing ****** like running through the rain and got drenched all over, water is seeping in to my shirt, my undergarments, absorbed in to my pores. Its coldness is almost deceiving, contradicting itself when warmth appears gradually. Enveloping me. You’re my hypothermia. The pain I embrace, the pain I wore with pride, the death I welcome. Acknowledging our fate is the beauty, of cherishing what we have deeply. The fear of losing each other is nothing, compared to our rendezvous, we have endured it again and again, to even notice how hurtful a good-bye is. I am left in smug, knowing that even though, your touches will forever perish soon, I would still find you next time. and as much as I wanted to curse our fate, thinking that we’re ****** way too deep, the trench of Mariana depth, the footprints we have left, breaths we let out, sounds we made, dreams we dreamt, words we've spoken and written down, all through times, are all true and I am here because of you. my love, if forever we need to run from fate that seeks to claim, and forever we have to endure until there’s not enough to maim, then I don’t mind, they better have a good aim.

0

Jul 8, 2025

Jul 8, 2025 at 11:13 AM UTC

Countdown

Countdown It’s almost as sure as the apocalypse, or centennial planetary alignments, as old as time and as sure as the sun setting, its rising, it’s within the air, waiting. An ancient curse spelled on us ever since the dawn of the day, ever since our inceptions. Yet this second, all of that doesn’t matter. When my pink nail beds, shone under our dimmed, warm, bedroom light. As my fingers races each others all over the warm surface, the trails I left on you are beaming, you’re incandescent. Almost looks like cracked earth’s surface with lava underneath. The true you peeking through. And when you sighed the deepest sigh, I can almost hear primal bellow ripping through, the hunger, the thirst, the longing, the glistening molten gold, ready to drench and mold me into one of your statues, and with your faintest lick from my collar bone to my left earlobe, in between these sheets and my moan you whisper, “Nothing is permanent, my baby.“ And I think it’s safe to say that I am about to burst my bubble. As I burst under you, with my half-closed teary eyes, blurry, And my longing mouth opened, looking for yours. And you keep thrusting me even after, spasm-inducing ****** like running through the rain and got drenched all over, water is seeping in to my shirt, my undergarments, absorbed in to my pores. Its coldness is almost deceiving, contradicting itself when warmth appears gradually. Enveloping me. You’re my hypothermia. The pain I embrace, the pain I wore with pride, the death I welcome. Acknowledging our fate is the beauty, of cherishing what we have deeply. The fear of losing each other is nothing, compared to our rendezvous, we have endured it again and again, to even notice how hurtful a good-bye is. I am left in smug, knowing that even though, your touches will forever perish soon, I would still find you next time. and as much as I wanted to curse our fate, thinking that we’re ****** way too deep, the trench of Mariana depth, the footprints we have left, breaths we let out, sounds we made, dreams we dreamt, words we've spoken and written down, all through times, are all true and I am here because of you. my love, if forever we need to run from fate that seeks to claim, and forever we have to endure until there’s not enough to maim, then I don’t mind, they better have a good aim.

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