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 Apr 2018 Aaina khan
TSK
No one counts the grains of sand
until the last few abandon
their perch atop the glass.

We care not for the song
until the final strain of notes
fade to an eerie silence.

Unnoticed goes the sun
until its journey ends
as it kisses the western horizon.

I suppose what I mean to say,
is in a world that keeps turning,
with people that keep moving,
and things that keep changing,
we do not notice the blessings,
the beauties, or the opportunities
until their time here is done.
In absence, we find appreciation,
but in normality we find forgetfulness.

But fear not the passing things,
for in a life full of closures,
with oncoming completions,
and repeated resolutions,
in the endings we find the beginnings,
the restarts, and the chances anew
when they are least expected.

So fear not, for the hourglass will turn
and though time will not stop for you
it will also never end.

When the ballad fades to silence,
it trades places with another tune
that you will be sure to hear.

And with every sunset comes a sunrise,
so do not forget the sun tomorrow
as it caresses your skin all day long.
 Apr 2018 Aaina khan
LS
when a poet falls in love with you
you can never die
they will notice the way
you rub your palms and look down
when someone is angry at you
and the way you smirk
as you pull away from a kiss

they will notice how you can't sleep
without your body touching someone else's
how you never crease any pages of books
and how you close your eyes when you dance in your kitchen
with your record player on

they will find all of the words
that they see you as
and turn them into something beautiful

people say you die twice
once when you stop breathing
and when someone says your name
for the last time

if you fall in love with a poet
they will never stop
mentioning your name
you will be alive
for eternity
I once saw a butterfly, its left wing was broken,
and it fell over and over, its legs crushed with feeling.

What is beauty?
We ask ourselves as we pile powder on our face like cement over our flawed skin.
Most attribute "beauty" as a physical trait, something you are either born with
or must qualify as to achieve happiness.
I think beauty is in the scrawled message at the corner of a Post-It note shoved in your right pocket
and in the tears welling to your eyes that have not yet fallen.
I think beauty is the hair unstraightened with wide tired eyes
and collaped words stumbling over themselves.

All we know about beauty was bottle-fed to us.
As a society, we have set aside what is and isn't beautiful.
It is unattractive to have acne, obscene to have leg hair,
and a downright sin to spend less than twenty minutes on your hair each morning.
But I've counted the zits on your crumpled forehead
and wrote in the stars the strands of your hair.
Your beauty's unbroken and awesome and perfectly celestial.

I've touched a million dizzy tulips, their heads nod off to the storm and rain.
But you held me even when I was unforgiving and broke me through the icy winds.

To me, beauty is not just what encompasses us, what we are born into;
Beauty is the yet-to-come and what you've tranformed to
after moments of fading lights and sick feelings.
Beauty is weaved into our minds, where no one can touch.
It's not in our appearance, nor in our actions.
Holding yourself high isn't cutting it for me.
Beauty is intricate thoughts, what you desire and feel.
I can't see beauty until you tell me by the dying light of noon
how much you'd love to change the world with your fingertips.

I once saw a butterfly, its left wing was broken,
but I swore it was beautiful.
 Mar 2018 Aaina khan
Mercury Chap
To my dear sister,
Since you can't read it
And I know I couldn't say this
It's hard to open up at times
But now you should know that I miss,
I miss you.

I miss you
Even though you are so bossy
You always demand random things
When most of the time you are so haughty
And when you tell me to stop when I sing
We still share the same group of blood
And we still played on the same heap of mud.

I miss you,
Even though at times you are selfish
And you never listen to me
And I am not some other pond's fish
We both are kind of same, you see,
All these years, we shared the same room
Although not at the same time,
But we also shared the same womb.

I kind of miss you,
In case if you read this
You're not that special, Binni,
But still you are my sis.

I don't feel bad that you are gone
You're just a few miles away
More than missing you I was drawn
To get the whole room for myself for some days

But being happy doesn't mean
That a little cell of mine isn't aware
Of the absence there has been
Of your annoying shrill voice here.

So sister,
Don't be so high headed now
It's just a formality to miss siblings
You're still annoying somehow
I hope I am not fiddling
With your confidence

You're still not superior
You still have the annoying voice
The poem doesn't mean I am inferior
It's poetry which is my choice.
A poem to my elder sister, which shouldn't reach her.
Seeing you each day ships many smiles to my life.

© Jl 2016
Perfection is overrated
and I love broken things.
The color of glass
and shattered dreams.
 Mar 2018 Aaina khan
Anne Molony
you know the look
the look
when you feel eyes on the side of your face
but you're not completely sure
so you turn
instantly catching them
looking
their addictive
ice blue eyes
staring
and then quickly they're gone
looking somewhere else
like the floor or  
out the window or
pretending to be deep in thought
but
you know that they've been looking
because you've caught them twice before
Your smile is the reason I get up every morning
Your smile is what keeps me going throughout the day
It's what let's me know you still care
It's that little Ray of sunshine I need on a gloomy day
The only thing that can bring me out of my dark place
Your smile is amazing
From: Talk *****/Breathe Easy
© Khrystina-Lee 2010
Your smile sets ripples
Across the calm waters
As my soul takes a plunge
Into the sea of feelings
Feeling the warmth
That embraces me
I can see myself in the reflection
of your heart
Scattering the colors of love
Your smile always
welcomes me
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