1.I miss the way you laughed at my singing because you felt I always "tried too hard."

2. I miss you giving me the cold shoulder. It meant you cared. But now it means something else.

3. I miss how awake and alert you are in the morning. I miss pushing you and your too much energy self off because I wasn't awake enough yet.

4. I miss your sarcastic jokes that were always followed by a hug and a "I love you" with a chuckle.

5. I miss how silly our conversations were. We talked about everything and anything. You would say "How the hell did the universe come up with you?"

6. I miss the more deep conversations. You looked at the ground while my fingertips drew circles on your back. Your eyes would close and you slowed your breathing. I miss the stillness and that silence. Theres nothing I wouldn't give to trade this silence for that silence.

7. I miss the play fighting. I remember one time someone said "At first, I thought you guys were being serious but then I saw the way he looked at you." If only you could look at me like that again. Like nothing else mattered.

8. I miss your arms and the way it made me feel like I spent all of my life being in the wrong places. The only place, the one place, I belonged was in your arms.

9. I miss your awful jokes. I miss laughing not because I thought it was funny but because you said it and nothing made my heart feel more joy than you.

10. I miss you. I miss the amount of pride I felt standing next to you. I miss the fighting and the screaming and the slamming doors and the making up and the heartache and the pain. It was everything and nothing. It was painful but wonderful. It was all that I imagined love to be. I can't seem to say goodbye but I know you want me to.

I broke open a fortune cookie
out jumped a woman
wearing a red dress
She sang like Elvis
dancing on the table
in red six inch heels
I looked to the waiter
for help
and I could see love
written all over his face
I made my excuses
paid the bill
and left.

this is an open letter to anyone who has the audacity to try and love you like i did.

dear whateverthefuckyournameis,

i apologize in advance for spilling my boiled blood on the hem of your skirt. what you need to understand, is that you are standing on ground previously reserved for my feet, so forgive me for any bitterness that seeps through the cracks in my clenched fists. i don't hate you, but i can't be your friend. you probably don't know about me, and if you do, let me commend your bravery. i have a tendency to set my problems on fire, and in my bouts of anger everything looks flammable, especially girls with paper complexions. i'm sorry. i have never been one to walk away, so i don't know how to explain to you the holes in the bottoms of my shoes. but i have been further than you will ever go. this is not supposed to be an angry letter, but lately that's the only thing coming out of me. i don't even know your name but the thought of your hands reaching for him makes we want to break them. i will douse your dreams in gasoline and strike the match against your cheek. but i know that's not right, see, the poison crawling out from the end of my pen belongs to a scarier version of myself i try not to know. my heartache is an insatiable war cry in the dead of night, that will stop at nothing to shatter all your windows. it shames me to admit that i've found a sort of twisted satisfaction in using passive aggression to breach your armor. i am sick with missing a set of arms i was not privileged enough to know. i speak with all the grace of an atom bomb and wonder about the rubble at my feet. you are white picket fence and i am barbed wire. some girls are lions, some are lambs, and i learned to love, teeth bared and snarling. one of the only things that keeps me going is the hope that one day i'll learn how to love something without making it bleed. i may have never been his, but for a time he was mine, so please understand why i taste acid when i think about your mouth on his. again, i am sorry. i know it is not my place to be so full of resentment, but there is a part of me that sincerely hopes it bothers you to know he dreamt of me before you were even a thought. there is a side of me that thrives on the image of the color being drained from your face when you read this. but i am trying to learn how to be softer. this letter is the manifestation of a self-inflicted war that has been raging in my chest since he first told me about you. you will try to be good to him, and you might even succeed. if you ever find yourself singing him to sleep, like i did, don't ask if he wants to hear another song, just keep going until his breathing slows.

- m.f.

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When the inflated crunching sky turns into the black hole, one by one the expected stars slowly falling on the horizon, sudden deep dark clouds cover the silky face of moon, or the earth takes the full moon.

Long, long shadows darken the meadows, southern wind can’t open your closed window at all, standing along on the curve of a road, a sigh to fly in the wind, roaming heart finding a home.

See the mystic form of the known objects, distant standing old banyan tree suppose to feel a lonely friend of mine, a friend of rootless time, when silly, bogus thoughts engulfed me, want to break up but change does not cry out.

Melancholy beauty in the dark, floating with the imagine gulls in the sky, draw the red sun on the canvas of dark sky within the wings of dream, again see you are playing with the seven colors across my unfinished sky.
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@Musfiq us shaleheen

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Then I never saw you
even didn't hear that song again
how everything got lost in uncertain
begins the rules of funeral  

Those morning dews,
how beautiful  the silver shines!
surely lost after a few hours
ah! the dreams grew and lost in daylight  

Moonlight falls on this large meadow
Certainly clears my distinct shadow
what a brightness in the face of horizon
get lost after the clouds covered

Hope grows love
where river moves towards the upstream
when loses
the time, untimely  

Love is a foolish pride
Find after lost,
as the day within the days,
daily

Lonely time as the pain of the poetry
In words, paper of poetry submerged
Find thy, say into the darkness
what a restless mind, drunk!
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@Musfiq us shaleheen