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 Apr 2015 Joseph Yzrael
Aditi
And I was falling,
So fast
Reducing constantly
To become nothing

And I was barely breathing
A heart forced to beat
Eyes bloodshot
But you could not see

And you were blinded
From the self-despair and pity
A heart
Torn and stomped all over

And you were shaking
From the tremors
only You could feel
But I could not steady your hands

I was waiting for you to save me,
I forgot magic only happens when you least expect it
You were waiting for me to notice
You forgot I was too caught up fighting my own battles

You were bitter
Over the times I had let you go
You forgot
I loved you w every ounce of my being
I was broken
Over the times you did not care enough
I forgot
You are a human with your own limits

And so we fell apart
In the most common ways
We forgot what we had
Because we were too busy grieving what the other person lacked

And now that the end is near
I see where we went wrong
I loved you and you loved me
But love
is almost never enough

And I got my wish
With my last breath I took your name
The earth shook,the sky turned black,
This is my last farewell
I'll never see you again
So many aftershocks have got me losing my grip and when that happens, I write, a lot. RIP people who died in Nepal and strength to their families. Also people in north India like me, just hang on. I know it is hard but... I can understand. and every life is precious so just take care of yourself and those around you
My life was black and white
A colorless canvas that stood barren
Color was never essential
It was never a necessity of mine.

Yet somehow in my own dull perception
A dot had formed right in the center
A bright dot to say the least...

A peculiar thing I had never seen before
It grew slowly, little by little
A storm of color emerged with each inch
Brown, Yellow, Blue, Purple...
So many different colors

My canvas was no longer colorless
In fact it was the complete opposite.
It was not plain and it was not normal
It was now a work of art.

People gawked at its odd style
Praised it for its unusual strokes
A bizarre spectacle to most
And a quite unexpected transformation for me...

"Who painted this strange piece?"
Before I knew it people were staring at me.
Puzzling eyes that clapped in my direction

"Congratulations on your success"
Words that made me realize I was the painter
I was the one holding the brush
The "******" who painted my own path
The one who put color into my life

"Sign the painting" They all cheered
But now that I know I'm the painter
My work of art is not finished yet
I have unfinished business in my life

I cannot quit now.
Knowing that I still haven't found the right colors
The right mix of red, green or blue to solve my problems
I cannot call this a masterpiece...

My life is still a canvas
But it's not colorless anymore...
 Apr 2015 Joseph Yzrael
Rosie Dee
I have oh so many thoughts and feelings,
Hundreds and thousands,
Millions and billions,
But can i put them into words?
No
Not at all
*Never
I have so many thoughts and feelings in my head and have done for years, but have never ever been able to put any of it into words. I swear my head is going to bust soon with them all. Writer's block is a *****. (on a side note 'writer's block is a ***** was actually going to be the last line of the poem but i decided to leave it out)
 Apr 2015 Joseph Yzrael
Paige
As I drove home I
I found my fingers searching
for hair to pull,
and coming up short.
I felt that familiar pain
in the middle of my chest,
and that unwelcome thought
popped into my head.
*"I'm going to end up bald."
 Apr 2015 Joseph Yzrael
inkstains
i think about you. a lot. and i don't mean at cliche 2am where poets taint their hands with ink and paper cuts. no. i think about you when i look at the sun rising at 5am. when i make coffee at 6. when bon iver comes up on the radio and i tap my fingers along the tune or when i read your favorite book and on every page i search for fragments of your fingerprint. i think about you at noon. because i'd rather have your lips than my tuna sandwich. and at 2pm because you texted "i miss you" and i replied "i love you". at 5pm as the sun slowly disappears on the horizon and is replaced by a blanket of stars. i think about you at 10 in the evening when i'm alone looking at the night sky and the incandescent moon wishing i could trace your palms the way we tend to trace constellations. i think about you at 3am when i say my prayers and i whisper your name to God with a ghost of a smile. i tell Him i must have done something good to deserve you. it seems that you're stuck in my brain. heck, you're in my veins. and i don't ever want you out of my system.
1464

One thing of it we borrow
And promise to return—
The ***** and the Sorrow
Its Sweetness to have known—
One thing of it we covet—
The power to forget—
The Anguish of the Avarice
Defrays the Dross of it—
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