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  Feb 3 Sehar Bajwa
Mr Shankley
I kissed a girl with a broken smile;
nothing could come near.
She carved it with a pocket knife;
slit from ear to ear.
And she wears it like her favourite scarf;
it keeps her from the cold.
So I told her its only woven by
her enemies of old.
  Jan 12 Sehar Bajwa
first man
the wall
you asked me once 
why i let you in
when i had described it impenetrable ,
here , have your answer now
everyone , did the most
human thing a human can do ,
penetrated the wall
some walls are impenetrable
for some walls you have to ask
and you asked .
show me your scars
they distort your skin
and i will show you mine
i will run my fingers over them
kissing them as i go
i promise there won't be more
they matter to me but they don't
don't you see , i love you ?
words used to burst in my mouth
in praise of your ethereal self
but now all i do is look
falling deeper into the abyss
i want to fall in this abyss
i don't want to stop falling
just love me a little
let me rest in your lap
i don't ask for much
i will wipe your tears
just don't hurt me more
i have given you what was left
i promise i will stay .
  Jan 12 Sehar Bajwa
Anne
Eating my beyond burger with a fork and knife,
drag race in the background,
my Samantha doll by my side.
This isn't loneliness anymore.
This is just life now.

I'm not very good with words anymore,
maybe I never was.
So little has changed and yet everything has.
I still long for love.
I still want to be wanted.
That might never change.

Yet now this lonely world is one I've come to accept,
come to love.
I may be my only friend here,
but that's one more than last year.

Nothing I create is good,
but I'm learning to create anyway.
I'm learning to share my bad art,
at least it's art.
Right?

I dream of slitting the throat of the dog next door.
Someone outta shut him up.
I used to think that was an evil thought,
now I know there's no such thing.

I turn 21 in 2 days.
Math. Yuck.
I'm old,
getting older every second.
Whatever.
I will grow into this skin,
I'm sure of it.
Maybe.

I'm grateful.
More than anything I am grateful for it all.
The pain,
the pleasure,
the guilt,
the anger.

Pills,
family,
friends,
dolls.

No one reads these except me.
So this one is for her.
For you.
Anne,
my love,
my villain,
my biggest fear.

May this year be kind to you,
may you be kind to it.
May you listen to your spirit guides,
may you accept what you never could.

Growth is sticky and wet,
Knowledge is thick and grey.
May you be the light and the darkness,
the cut and the band aid.

More than anything,
be okay.
You're gross,
in a sort of beautiful way.
May you be okay with that.
Truly.




Bad art is still art.
Right?
I think so.
For now.
  Jan 10 Sehar Bajwa
first man
lying on my face
staring at the phone  screen
the cursor blinking  
out of sync with the wall clock ticking
the light from the street falling
on the clutter of the table
almost timidly , as if scared by the darkness
why is there a table in the room ?
the shadows of the objects
look more ominous today
a certain shade of black
a scary shade , i won't get lost
i promise to myself for you
bahot yaad aati hai , ye aansu nahi ruk rahe
oh ,  it's a bedside table
i don't feel alright , it's too silent now
i feel haunted , in every room i go
i see a moment of us  but i will be here
i will be here ,
tuh haste hue bahot
khoobsurat lagti hai meri jaan  
bahot khoobsurat
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