she reached this ugly place
and found a dark trace
that captured the terror within her face,

the trace became like a hole
within her senses and heart
like a nasty big ball

she ran towards nothing !
like she was in an actual race
because, this dark lie!
put her in a dangerous case
until the trace shone again!
behind her, like a grace
and suddenly, stood up!
in front of her!
like a heaven base

she stoped, and felt sorry
when the evilness within the grace, was too sick
she licked its inner wounds so quick
until it healed, and its health became thick
but all of the sudden,
  she felt the hit!
on her head by a huge stick.

there
within this scary darkness
she left her breath with sadness
and about the evilness
that hiding within the grace soul
you can taste its gladness

The day I craved you
When the sunlight was accurately positive.
When the world was beautifully discussing your handsomeness with all the curious gardens,
I gave up on my parchments for the sake of admiring your features more and being blessed with you every day; despite it taking up my words, my ancient quill, and my beauty. I’m still a believer in your magic. I’m no longer a mermaid; I’m the betrayer of the ocean.

after the doomsday
there was an actual poet from the hell,
who always had a knout
to torture their  pale faces
within huge dark fiery cell ,

he ruined and burned their compositions
and made them melting together
again and again  
in a very dark position.

when the god revive them for the sixth time
one of them wailed and said to the poet:
my dear destruction divine
secretly, let the heaven to be mine
and stop giving our thirst
this cursed brine.

the poet responded  and said
yes, i'm the real destruction divine
of course i will not give you a wine
but i will turn off the pine
to keep you close
to your final dark line

once upon a dark time
there was a dart
that came and made us apart
with huge different wills of arts
I write
when he likes to be within the plight
I draw
when he mars glow
I swim
when he likes to drowning
near to the brim
of our fancy dark dart.

he wrote that:

when she write her poems
she published the fire within my bones

she killed me, with her thrones
when she was fighting the life, with her tones

I lived there, between the groans
when she knew, how to bloom the stones

when she write her poems
I have to try to withheld my moans

My friend
Our pain is creative.
It gathered us
And made us share it.
with impressive excitement
to the point of forgetting
about its tragedy
and focusing on how beautiful
We are together in this painful life…
My friend
Remember,
What spring brings to folks’ hearts
You bring the same emotional
beauty to the lost children out there.
The children who had never
heard about spring, the colorful one
That we knew it from fairytales
And we prayed to have it.
My friend
Believe me
When they hear about you once
They will definitely call you home.

He kept thousands of sacred seas
Inside his kindness, his wings are full of chastity. You can sense his soul floating in the sky like a guardian angel. You dare not wish to be an angel too. But you yearn to be in his holy heart forever.

Your hell is different,
It extends to be a semi-heaven,
But I can’t belong,
It burns all the paper and ink.
I've got nothing there to be a half-sinner.
I’d rather be a completely miserable poet, in an uninhabited void.

It hurts when you realize
that you’ve never been enough,
and all your beautiful features
used to be treated like
they never existed
Let’s go back to
the hollow void
with all those voices of
ours being tortured and
splitting into piece
Memories are no longer great excuses
for dashing ourselves into
the longing trap
We are increasingly
accepting our loneliness

.
.
.
Hello ex-Hubby,
I meant the handsome dystopian boy,
currently, I'm writing you the sin
I remembered that craved the most,
when I dared to
penetrate my colorful virtue spot again.
to ride the last whole night car with you
in a hurry,
and forget about the evil you,
hating women, dressed in your dark flurry.
I embraced those tiny white palms in my head.
when they refused to touch me back and ride ahead.
instead of losing interest
and forget about reverence you physically,
I kept my fingers crossed secretly,
under the car seat,
next to the prestigious scent of yours.
Your North African amber eyes
that refused to match mine,
to get lost between their depressed universes and shine.
I prayed along this magnificent time,
to God so he could with his 99 mercies
make you fully mine.
The lava that burst divinely
out of your Tunisian delicate betrayed my senses
and lit the full hungriness towards your beguilement.
I encouraged my half stability
to make it through
a little bit far from you,
my hallowed brew
with every single meter that we've passed
I fluctuate amid the idea of capturing you devilishly or sacredly, between making some blood contracts with the devil itself,
or donate as much money as I could,
for the sake of being together,
burring ourselves on an old bookshelf.
trichotillomania; the colorless ferocious ogre,
that used to assault my bright aesthetic soul,
as a tight fatal choker
to remind it chastely,
of the imperfection portrait of mine.
and pursue its pride with a fiery scourge,
matted with brine
when I started to rise my jaded fingers
to covet those golden cheeks.
I failed!
the deficiency is capturing me
The keloid I hated the most
as I carry my dramatic havoc away,
a little bit away,
from your inner fray
pathetically, I turned my whole feelings
against my well ignoring the idea of
love Subliminal and its spell
facing the windscreen
that harshly afford me a great frustration
trying to cover my hope with trash sack and provocation.
I failed,
escaping the life blackmail,
convincing me to practically disbelief on you.
But I kept myself as holy as I dared to.
despite of my Viscera's beating,
crumbling and shrinking.
I kept my grin harmfully, blinking.
under your realm seeking for a light of your anger that will
console me again. and bring me home.
Happy Birthday!
.
.
.

Stop muting the
breath of your fear
Just Drill your own beer
to find your golden jeer.

And

Let it smash your own tear
Until you find your rights
To live your cheer
Without yourself
And without them my lovely deer.

next to this real terror
there was a real door
that has an error
with a number four

she tried to hang it on it
and ignore its lore
furthermore,
there was a single sore
within its living bore

it hate to lie
but he liked it before
when he was sure that
it is an angelic core.

he will never have more
of number four
even when its rejection towards her
is so poor
but it still can find the inner shore.
within her gore.

Here…
Where I’m unable to feel your presence,
Where the lack of joy and lack of motivation
Are dancing vividly along the darkness…
I would be determined and eager to achieve my goals, next to your gentle, harmless envy.
But today,
My melancholy is cherishing my epic loss,
telling me I’m neither your lover nor your foe,
I’m nothing but a forgotten chapter
A thing that will never remain
Precious to you.

Despite years of learning
to be independent,
your ghosting can
still act around,
but I'm the happiest
introverted woman
in this corner;
I no longer
belong to you.
I belong to my mess.

I’m not a fool for counting the days.

I’m not a fool for missing you,
or bleeding quietly in your absence.

I’m not foolish for keeping my distance from people,
for building walls instead of bridges,

For learning not to trust.

No—

I’m simply terrified...

Because I’m still in love with you.
Still crying for you.
Still believing nothing can erase this pain.
My longing for you has become a monster.

But I don’t fear monsters—

I command them.

I bind them in chains,
silence their screams.
But this one…

This one won’t kneel.

I can’t sentence it to death for its rebellion.

Can’t starve it,
can’t silence it.

Because every time I look into its eyes—

I see yours.

And I weep.
You are my weak spot.

My undoing.
I’m not a fool…

But I love you.

-- you didn’t see anything yet.

Yeah, he touched my blood with his Threats.
He brought his flood to my rights without regrets.
His tongue is covered by mud and his
malice is full of sweat.
And you have to know that,
He is a lonely bud that you can't love or forget.

This starry, darkened celestial sky
reminds me of how foolish and
errant I used to be next to you.
Hungry for perfection,
terrified to the point of
letting hallucinations prey on me
and devour me partly,
leaving me to consciously stare at
my jagged self like a leftover piece
of an exciting individual.

This pain is intense.
Taking the brightness away,
Creeping up on our melancholy,
Hunting its bleakness and embodying such a ferocious doom inside, we are no longer alive; we are just pretending to be.

his fragrant palms,
Filled with marshmallows and ink stains,
I’m tracing the sugary world, brimming with such a poetic lexicon between his entwined fingers ;
Those Fingertips that I dared to crave
Love, pain, thirst, and beautiful hunger,
I dare to suffer, you won’t.
I care to inflate the romantic havoc, you don’t,
My tempting beauty is rooted in your psychosis, I’m nothing but a complete masterpiece of bleak jellyfish, blindly diving into your seductive ocean.

I remained silent
for the sake of holding you
emotionally tighter than you could ever
possibly imagine.
I chose you
a hundred times
until I forgot about
my jaded self
and started to hate it even more,
devouring you romantically.
I had no family;
I never learned how to be loved
unconditionally,
so I adored you
unconditionally.
How could you be so selfish
when I was the meaning of family to you?
You betrayed my feelings
and dragged me to hell,
and I unbelievably adapted for you.
I love you with all my remains
and jagged parts.

she tasted the dryness of her   blood by mistake.
and she realized that her veins were fake.

she walked towards the red lake.
to commit suicide!
while  she found that the water was flake.

the death was  rusty,
like a rotten big cake
that will never digest
Within the body of snake

That settled in her nightmare
And keeps her terror awake.

lead me to the sun,
That will be always
the main symbol of seething
And
the convincing reason
who I'm bleeding.

let its dark lava pray for us,
to have the blessing for our fuzz,
And don't forget to
care about its volatile rage,
thus you will get the golden page
of wisdom
from the right sage.

hide your justification
within the body of your mystifcation
And
don't dare to fight the circle of black fire
that will cause your happines
a great ire.

I can sense my pain’s sobbing,
Sighing and leaving no trace
Of being passionately damaged.
Gifting itself a bunch of hopes and flowering them ferociously with the abscess’s appearance. No gesture could fill the gap left by being desperately injured.

The folks in heaven were angry
Because their trees were hungry
That’s why
They killed the last cranky.

After which
they feed the trees amply
With his blood which is totally
Fancy.

But all of a sudden
The greed attacked the branches
And start to spread the sins
In the form of patches.

And finally,
the handsome cruelness built its rituals
within the holy individuals
until the terror bloomed within the folks
and hunt the heaven
to burn its strokes.

Once upon a time, in a toxic embrace
Us, and your shadow, faint and cold
I held onto your lies, against my knowing,
Till awakening came, and I started going.
Begging for warmth, for love's reprise,
Met by your silence, under cold skies.
Today, I close that chapter, bid farewell,
Exchanging your poison for stories to tell.
How could you break the love promise?
And compel it to swell with its calamity
And burst within its insanity
Like a perfect incantation
In times of ignorance.

in this Morn,
Under this clime,
She found her dark hails,

She tasted its drops and thee can hanging it
on thine blue nose Thro’ this explode.
now, after the mad mass
the Isle became bold , because it scattered the inner gold,
And whose wailing is this?
Who knows!
But,
Before you go,
Cheer their death up
and embrace your pavilions
And fly carefully
Towards the panic .

Hubby,
I exposed my soul to your
narcissistic hunger once,
and you are here upon my
simplicity, manipulating my few
reasons to stay alive and
making them speak
out against me.
I know I should have died
before, maybe in an earthquake
or in the Pacific Ocean
that I prayed to see one day,
but I didn’t, as I was used to your
words that killed me every
morning and night.
Just remember,
I wasn't that bad;
I only opened myself to
you without being careful
of your attack on my innocence.
I want to go home;
I'm lost, admits your
demonic knouts.

Dad,
Do you remember me?
I'm the child you raised,
the one you emotionally abandoned,
the little one who used to be afraid at night,
trembling to the point of tears,
the one who used to be mentally distracted
and terrified of the dark that reflected your gaze
. I couldn't run from you for years
I remember one night I escaped
your cruel silhouette,
and it cost me hours of grief
Dad,
do you remember me?
Do you remember how many times
you used to call my name
and I couldn't answer because I was distracted?
Do you remember how many times
I needed a hug but couldn't get one?
I'm still confused.
Why didn't you accept me?
I'm lost like a suicidal child
in the woods.
Could you find me and rescue me
before it is too late?
It's time for you to remember
how precious I am and save me.

Love, Your Daughter

I belong to the first place
where we used to overdose on dreams,
ones you've since forgotten.
I persist in being yours,
despite the challenges we face today.
Happy birthday to you.
The shattered words I've held onto
remain yours,
whether I can articulate them or not.
Today,
I comprehend the weight
of punitive silence,
and thus,
it transforms into a blessing in my life.
No one would impose it upon me
before it morphs into their fear of
losing me in the first place.

In your fake gardens
There was a vivid
Semi-orchard,
I couldn’t enjoy
Its little brightness,
I’m a fanatical
Believer in darkness
I used to be zealous
For Gothic literature
And Beyond,
Hear my colorless void
Exclaiming : for the sake
Of its melancholy’s dose.

I’ve become too jaded
To fight,
To sacrifice,
To believe,
To persevere,
To confess,
To love,
To dream.
I’m so cynical
To be yours.

I have grown afraid
of awareness itself—
of awakening into a moment
where I cannot speak with you,
of being alone without the ability
to reach you
whenever fear grips me.

I will go on chasing dopamine,
feeding it,
raising it higher,
just to escape.

And so,
I lose consciousness every day,
because
whenever I return to awareness,
I remember you,
and I break into relentless tears.

There is no savior from
the desire to end it all,
and no savior from the terror
of the end itself.

I missed our fights,
Dark hours and endless nights,
And finally, our poetic moments
If time could return,
I would choose you even harder,
Etching you deeper into the core of my soul

I am no longer longing for life
Nor for happiness;
I am yearning for a loving,
caring you—
The one who craves commitment
And everlasting adoration
I am praying with my body
and soul
My eyes seeking
my only goal
Writing down verses and
chanting them,
With certainty
overdosing on insomnia
And its powerful gem—
You, my twin flame
I enlist every phrase and verb
To craft an invocation
For the sake of keeping you
And silencing all
that surrounds us
I love you
With all my melancholic
insomniac obsession

It's okay to fail again.
It's okay to drown insanely, to Inhale the whole fire, and to forget about the water creeping up into my collapsed lungs.
Dearest darling hubby,
You set my fear free for a while,
I'm still yearning for some of your tenderness.
I wish I was lucky enough to keep impressing you for a long period of time. I love you desperately.

You were my child,
my priority,
my responsibility,
my spouse,
my delightful melancholy,
my breathtaking Christmas,
during moments of despair.
What perfect misfortune
would bring about
the same terrifying nights next to you.
I missed you.