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Looking for the lost prophets
that seemed to slip right through the sand
through the cracks of time…

My thoughts of you bring a warm sensation
that I shouldn’t have
You’re my Peter Pan, something to fall upon
when the real world is null and grey.

I still think of you from time to time
and remember how I felt
when I’d talk to you for hours and hours
About particularly nothing at all,
my mind said.
But my heart found a reason to be
in you
And then you went
from my little world
where the sky was always grey and
saw its first glimpse of blue
from the light of your eyes,
shining into me.

It’s a lonely existence when you think about it,
I’m surrounded and isolated all at once.
Is there anyone in this world
who shares these thoughts that
echo in my mind?
I still think of you,
but why?

You disappeared and came right back
So sheepishly, as though I’d never welcome you
back into my door, into a dusty house.
I kept a spot open for you, and everyday
I stared at the empty space that
needed to be filled
in this quiet house
in my quiet mind, that needed someone
to reassure me
that I’m still human.

I still think of you even though you probably don’t of me.
I thought those thoughts when you walked away,
and then you saw me.
You saw me standing there all alone,
trying to fill the spot you left behind
they didn’t fit, no one could.

I thought for sure you’d forgotten me, but
it was as though I saw the ghost
of you.
You were just as I remembered,
and when I told you
of that empty space I tried to fill
and that artificial fluff I tried to stuff inside,
you told me
of all of those nights
you stayed up
And thought of me.
How you’d stare at my letters,
all the things
I’d given you.

I still think of you,
But I hate to think you’ve left a second time,
third, fourth, fifth?
I lost track when I accepted,
that I was going to live this life alone and old,
my dear Peter Pan.
When I was young, I was told
that deep beneath our feet,
was a land I’d be sent to,
if I didn’t clasp my hands and speak
to an invisible man who lived in the sky.

I inquired softly what this land was?
They snapped, I’d burn and scream
in a cloud of smoke, fire
and a bearded red man would torture me
I shut my mouth as I wondered,
Why?

Shaken, I knelt by my bed and
apologized for myself—
my thoughts and humanity.
How would standing within these stained-glass walls,
I wondered, make me more a saint,
and how would a magic book
bring sanity?

I had a friend, once
that only I could see.
He followed me wherever I walked
in innocent company.
But they scorned my imagination,
how could I believe?
This silly made-up nonsense
that I couldn’t even see

Funny they said that,
because as I recall,
they handed me a Bible, and told me,
of some magic Jewish zombie
that saved humanity.
We always talk about those who
you will never forget as long as you
exist, but
I’m thinking of someone
who I’d never  be the same without
if you didn’t approach me
that one lonely night,
sliding into my life like
a lost piece of a jigsaw puzzle
all those years ago.
I've found a wonderful man,
everything I could have wanted--
one who listens, who tells me I'm still
pretty, even if I forego makeup and
revealing clothing.

One who straddles the fine line
of being chivalrous and never sexist,
protective but never possessive.
I cannot help but wonder,
what some recluse like me
could have ever done to deserve him.

Down to the details, even--
his shiny black hair, his innocent smile
(And I've always had a thing for foreign men...)
While I stumble as I walk, shrivel under the sunlight
and stutter on my words.

I've likely grown spoiled by him, and when I tell him
how much of a catch he truly is, he only says,
"There are plenty of other nice guys out there,
I'm nothing special."

Oh, Saleh, I could only smile, and
repress the memory
of what other 'nice guys' before you
have done to me.
A sensitive creature-- every touch leaves a mark
you hide in the shadows, observing...
You see a world that frightens you, a world so stark--
the black and white shocking to your greyscale.

You run through the forests to clear your thoughts
running into Mother Nature's arms of soil
you forfeit the existence you've accumulated,
Screaming as your brain begins to boil, but

All I can say, is tell me what your eyes are seeing?
Don't throw away the thoughts you leave behind.
Tell me now, how this ugly world must look,
to your beautiful mind?
In high school
we learn of logarithms, iambic meter
how to balance an equation between zinc oxide
and excess hydrogen gas--
only to find there was no reaction to begin with.

We're told colleges get to know you
through three letter acronyms-- ACT, SAT, GPA
And the students they want know everything
that they'll forget once they turn thirty.

Little do we realize
that if our Geometry teacher were to write an analysis
on the coexistence of good and evil in To **** a Mockingbird,
he would likley receive a "D" under the scrutinizing eye of
the honor's English teacher

Nor do we see that the art instructor would freeze in her tracks
faced with an assignment filled with the insufferable fate of
chemical stoiciometry

Socrates once said that the youth today
will be the demise of civilzation.
We contradict our parents, are smug in the face of authority
and tyrannize our teachers.
Funny he said this roughly 2,000 years ago--
I think my dad said something like that last year.

But, until the day we grow up to pay taxes
and marry someone we despise,
we're just stupid teenagers.
If everything were to crumble to pieces
And civilization would no longer be
I think I’d still be fine
Right here,
In the absence of you
With the world all before me
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