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Malak S Jul 2019
There’s a feeling in my chest
It mostly makes no sense
I lie, wipe and weep
I cry out for a voice to hear
The cracking of the floor boards, located where I breathe
My heart no longer beats
It is found no more
Instead you find cobwebs of all the memories they left me
I couldn’t save one or two
So now I lost three, and all of them meant something to me
It’s just now, I tied their death to me
How does one learn to breathe when their soul no longer feels,
Everything is just numb,
When I’m high, my body sinks and I ask God if this is what it feels to slowly be buried 6ft deep
Do they feel the weight pressing into their ribs, do they feel lonely; no one to hold or kiss?
Do they blame me for not reaching in and pulling them out?
I’m sorry I’m crying when it’s been 7 yrs , or 8
I’m sorry I forgot the sound of his voice and smile, with a twitch when he smirks in peace
I’m sorry I forgot the safety I felt when he’d hold me and tell me everything would be alright
I’m sorry I lost a brother and forgot him that night
I’m sorry I let my friends waste away
They were 2 months apart
And they sold their souls to the drugs, instead
They had so much life ahead, but were troubled with the worlds biggest regrets
They loved me when I gave myself away to the devil and loved me back when I slammed hard, disheveled, out of place, forgotten
im sorry I couldn’t save them
I’m sorry I no longer call them
My heart no longer belongs to any part of this body
It’s slowly withering and all I do is beg God to take my wasteful soul in exchange for theirs or for a day with them, maybe a week or month
And I’m sorry I’m so selfish that I want them to stay
They were truly a blessing and we’re all nothing but a curse; we’re in a void in outer space, floating in search for something great or anything that helps us find the light again.
These breakdowns are slowly settling in, creating riptides in the center of my chest, no edges fit, and all I fear is that I remain broken, my friends
Unable to be fixed
Bound to never exist
This in no way is meant to be perfect. I’m so sad and the words haven’t caught up to me. They’re enough for now, even though eventually, I’m going to need to express more.
  Oct 2018 Malak S
إنني أعبُرُ الجسرَ الذي لطالما خشيت إنهيارَهُ. الجسر الذي أمضيتُ عقدينِ في بناءه. الجسر الذي يؤدي الي عالمي الآمن. ولكنَّ قداماي ترفض الحركة و كأنها تُحَذرني من عبوره. الحقيقة هي انني امضيت عُمراً على جِسْري هذا إلى أن ألِفَتهُ عيناي و إعتادَ عليه جسدي. ربما لم اعد تلك الفتاة اللتي تحلم باللون الوردي، ربما أصبح اللون البنيّ هو أنيسي. و لكنني أرفض الالتفات إلى الوراء، أرفض مواجهة الفتاة الصغيرة اللتي ما زالت تُلوِحُ لي بيديها المكدومة. سأكملُ طريقي. سأكمل طريقي لأجلها. لأجل الفتاة اللتي قد آمنت بقوتنا و اقسمت أن تهزم الأقدار. الفتاة اللتي نسجت عالماً سعيداً بخيوط عمرها و عزمت على إحياءه .
Malak S Sep 2018
Maybe some people aren’t destined to find love
no matter how many times you knock the door, the House remains abandoned and nothing ever fills your chest,
at some point, your ribs cave in and you suffocate on your own blood
A tragic death
Maybe no matter how many times you sell your body, hoping someone will make love to your remains, it is still never enough
Maybe the conversations filled with laughter and dreams, remain just that; empty echoes of a forever lost in space & time
Maybe no matter how many people wrap their arms around you, you’re still fragile, you’re still a feather floating along the wind hoping someone would turn you to something more;
Something meaningful.
Maybe no matter how many times you cross paths, you’ll always remain strangers, meeting through parallel universes and it’s always the wrong time or the wrong place or the wrong something but never the right anything
Maybe some people aren’t destined to find love
To be love
To be in love
To feel love
They’re destined to drown in love
To suffer in love
To love but not be loved
To die of love because no one was capable of holding such vast amounts of love
Maybe some people are lonely
Maybe it’s me.
It’s always been me.
  Sep 2018 Malak S
Everytime i closed my eyes i saw a Nebula.
A Purple that defined me

Purple, and You.
I saw rays of violet that hugged the faultless curves of your lips. I saw stars that danced on the tip of your perfectly carved nose. I saw forming planets hiding in the unruly curls of your hair.

Purple, me, and you.
I saw the magenta that danced in your eyes. I saw the mauve i stained your neck with. I saw the lavender I extracted from you.

Purple, and Us.
I saw the gravity of the nebula pulling together the clumps of dust and gas thrown out by the explosion of a dying star. I watched the star nursery and wondered if we are worth the collapse of the interstellar cloud. If We are the protostar.
A nebula is a giant cloud of dust and gas in space formed by the explosion of a dying star, such as a supernova. nebulae are regions where new stars are beginning to form.
Malak S Sep 2018
Never, have I ever
Thought I’d be the one, to bring out the stress in a relationship, the mistress in distress.
Never, have i ever
Loved to the point of comfort.
Never, have I ever
Swam into the depths of words
Until I forgot all the ink that marked pages
Never, have I ever
Drowned in emptiness that doesn’t resemble dark holes and abandoned homes,
With creaking floorboards and moldy corners.
Never, have I ever
Felt a dent in the chambers of my heart.
I have, though
Always swayed to the emotions that fill my soul and ignite the fire that boils beneath my skin.
Never, have I ever
Thought that burning my skin with a lit cigarette could cause a stain within my memories, that I can’t seem to shake off.
Every time I close my eyes, his voice lingers,
It resonates within my bones, and plays symphonies of a time where my home was filled with light,
Instead of this eternal darkness that continues to pull me every night.
First poem in a month
  Aug 2018 Malak S
Jalila Chehab
Do you ever wonder what happiness feels like?

When the beating of your heart finally stops echoing in your ear,
When your last tear falls and your eyes shut into an eternal abyss,
When your skin starts tearing up from the inside all the way out.

Your bones have no shelter left,
So they just embed in the same soil where flowers grow.

And now flowers are growing out of your lungs,
What once were your lungs.

Your bones,
And every shred of your flesh
Became beautiful.

Did you really have to die to become something scenic?
Now you’re just a beautiful aroma,
A splendor that grows and gets picked up by someone who could’ve been the love of your life,
Only to be given to the love of his life.
To be tucked behind her ear,
To hang off her long black silk hair

Now you’re just a flower that’s passed around,

She will take you out of her hair when the day is over,
She’ll leave you on her desk,
She’ll leave you there one day after another.

You’re going to start feeling your petals falling apart,
And your stem wilting,
And your core aching.
Did you really have to die to become something scenic?
Did you really have to die twice to prove that happiness doesn’t exist?
  Aug 2018 Malak S
Jalila Chehab
I’ve spent years longing for an end, A little kiss of death.
How about a little taste of hell?
I wanted to cleanse my soul,
let the devil feed on my remains,
My heart, my lungs, my forsaken touched body. A messenger of hell.
A Raven.
It set on my windowsill
We exchanged looks like I was
Edgar Allan Poe,
And the raven was about to quote
The Raven had already tapped my window, Once,
twice, three times now.
Third time is a charm they said,
Maybe it will all be gone now.
With every tap, my mind was ready to stop, To die, to find an

I was awoken by another tap at my window.
My eyes had widened at the beautiful red chested ray of hope that was at my windowsill. I saw the beautiful creature and I was able to breathe, oh, I have never been happier to breathe.
My body had a sense of renewal, And that was all I needed. Something that brought me back,
A Robin,
Had set a nest on the tree across my window,
I watched as he, who I consider to be mine, Approach my window and stand under that tree. The Robin now looking down on him, looking up on me.
The Robin, now rests above him, Nested like a crown on a king’s head.
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