You've tried a hundred times, I know,
But don't give up what you've begun;
It may be that what you seek will succeed
In try number a hundred and one.

Your entire existence was a cruel joke

that your parents concocted while

you were in the womb

only to tell you, in your later years,

just how bleak and insignificant you truly are

and were always - to them.

She is the beginning
As well as the end
The best part of the middle
Then start over again

The sweet part of the taste
On the tip of your tongue
The wisdom of old
The giggle of young

She is the breeze
That blows in the Spring
The long distance call
That brings you close with the ring

The moment you hear
Someone say yes
She is the mystery
That hides in the guess

She is the hope
That you hold onto
The talk of the town
The brand in the new

The little crease
At the edge of the smile
She's the bees knees
The answer to why

She is all this and
She is all that
When it comes to it all
She's where it's all at

When you spend your time waiting for someone, you find out that disappointment is the only thing you get.
You live your life for them and in the end you only end up living in regret.

Love has this way of giving you hope and making things better
but in the end it just leaves you a ****** day with stormy weather-

You'd go out of your way to make them feel special, to make them
feel loved but in the end you find out you were never good enough.

I don't know how to put this, I don't what to say, but sometimes when love's in sight, it's best to run away.
No more tears and no more pain, only memories that still remain.

But I'll forget them too, 'cause the only thing I ever did was to die
because of you...

The beauty of your existence
Is that of a book with blank pages
Waiting to be written by only your words

The beauty of your existence
Is that of a hymn sung by only your voice
Where everyone in the streets quietly admires your notes

The beauty of your existence
Is that of a blank mural waiting to be painted
And to presented amongst an exhibit labeled "Stories"

The beauty of your existence
Is that of a tale told around a campfire
As children scurry around the teller
To listen in on your adventures

The beauty of your existence
Is a compliment to another's
Adding hues that could otherwise make their existence dull

The beauty of your existence
Is that you simply exist.

I have a million things to say to you
about how you made me feel
how worthless you made me feel
how broken you made me feel
and I could write you a list
I could mail it to you
I could write you a song
I could sing it to you
I could scream it at you
I could cry to you all the things you did to me
tell you how much I loathe you
I could tell you how you WRECKED me
how you RUINED things in my life
how you destroyed those that I care about and love
I could etch it into your skin
leave it in a note on your doorstep
burn it into the wood of your backyard fence
...but I won't.
You really don't even deserve to know what you did to me anymore
So goodbye now.
Even though you're not even worth a goodbye to me anymore.

Repost if someone has stopped even being worth a goodbye to you at this point because of how deeply they wounded you.
Please comment! I love to read interpretations of my poetry or your thoughts on my work or on poetry itself as an art!

///

It is very easy to bear a child
when you are a good parent or not

It is also not too tough to write some words
when you are a good poet or not

But it is too tough for a parent to grow up   
their child as being a real man

As it is too tough for a poet to make
a meaningful poem with those words

Though either you are a very good parent
or a very good poet

///
@ Musfiq us shaleheen

Those envied places which do know her well,
And are so scornful of this lonely place,
Even now for once are emptied of her grace:
Nowhere but here she is: and while Love’s spell
From his predominant presence doth compel
All alien hours, an outworn populace,
The hours of Love fill full the echoing space
With sweet confederate music favourable.

Now many memories make solicitous
The delicate love-lines of her mouth, till, lit
With quivering fire, the words take wing from it;
As here between our kisses we sit thus
Speaking of things remembered, and so sit
Speechless while things forgotten call to us.

when nobody is there
when nobody listens
a pencil and a piece of paper
or a keyboard and a computer screen
will be there
and listen
you can pour your heart out
or say how you feel
simply by writing down the words
that are trapped in your mind
and i cannot think of anything
lovelier than that