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 Jul 2019 Mariam
Dhaara T
Half Hello
 Jul 2019 Mariam
Dhaara T
Hurt

And unwilling
to fall again

We'll keep touching
each other's hearts

Carefully

Not to cause more cracks
Or to expose our own wounds

Because diving freely
In another
Could mean the risk
Of drowning

And isn't it better to be alone?
Than to be together only to feel alone

So I'll gift you a full smile
Shed some light on your aching heart
Water your gardens
Until you bask in the bloom of shining light

Friend

I'll be another traveller
On your journey, and join you
When you're scared

To take the plunge
To discover broken pieces
Of your soul

I'll help you unpuzzle
If I am able to keep up
Myself

I'll treat you with my whole heart
but only half a hello.
Feels more fit for a song than a poem, to me.
 Jun 2019 Mariam
anonymous
opening
 Jun 2019 Mariam
anonymous
your hand trembles

as you try to write

they need to know

your lips quiver

as you open up

the part hidden

so meticulously

from the world
 Jun 2019 Mariam
Pagan Paul
.
Pain should be written beautifully,
achingly displayed upon a page.



© Pagan Paul (20/06/19)
.
 Jun 2019 Mariam
elaine
h e l p
 Jun 2019 Mariam
elaine
my grip is slipping,
and falling scares me.
my world is fading away.
h      
          e
                     l
                             p
       m
                 e

h
          e
                    l
                          ­     p
          m
                     e

writing was an escape but even now words slip off the paper like tear drops.
why does it have to be like this?
 Jun 2019 Mariam
Marla
Hello Poetry
 Jun 2019 Mariam
Marla
Jump on the web
From your cozy stead
And surf with elation
This sensation's spread.
Reams upon reams
Of coded lines lit alight,
Together they stream
Bringing all of these
Terrific writes to life.

As we all beam,
Shook to the core
With contemplation,
Let us release our dreams
To be borne by all
Overlooked by salvation.

Thus, I bid ye an axiomatic decree:
"Poetry is life's garden and life is her tree."
 Jun 2019 Mariam
Marla
Every morning I wake up to puddles at my feet,
Storm clouds swamping me and making it impossible to breathe.

The downpour only grows more as the days progress,
A dying glow fading distant in my empty chest.

It's hard to find the storm's eye when it seems to have died,
The tar and ashes from a bonfire burn lowly outside.

But me and my life, I suppose we are just fine...
The rising tide drowning us in it's icy cold brine.

Perhaps one day, it will all come to an abrupt end.
Until that day, I'll drown myself with an ocean of gin.
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