///
Empty room
Open window
Smell of your hair
Reshuffle of all the feelings
What a familiar song!
Blowing through the window
I hear but not to turn asleep
Flavor of night jasmine
I open the door
She is coming,
What an unprecedented beauty of that face!
Gradually open
The bare body
How beautiful!
I am seduced by the sight of
You and I stand one on the island
But then I was sleeping
In a dream not to go too close

@Musfiq us shaleheen
///
ঘরটা ফাকা
জানালা খোলা  
তোমার চুলের গন্ধ পাই
এলোমেলো সব অনুভূতি
কি যেন এক চেনা গান
ভেসে আসছে
শুনে শুনে ঘুম আসেনা
হাস্নাহেনার গন্ধ
দরজাটা খুলে দেই
সে আসে  
কি অপূর্ব সুন্দর্য ওই মুখে!
আস্তে আস্তে খুলে যায় সব
অনাবৃত শরীর
কি সুন্দর!
আমি বিমোহিত এক দৃষ্টিতে
তুমি আর আমি এক দ্বীপে
কিন্ত তখন আমি ঘুমিয়েছিলাম
স্বপ্নের  মধ্যে কাছে যেতে পারিনি  

মুসফিক উস সালেহীন

///

To walk away on Christmas.
I've never felt winter's breeze graze my cheek so sharply.
My heart grows cold as this prolonged night goes on.
I'm frozen.

Four years of my life,
Lost at sea.
Though my heart breaks into falling snowflakes
You had to be free of me.
There was no place left for me in your occupied heart.
This frostbite will sting, until I feel no more.

What warmth that was left in my core has been stolen by this cursed evening.
And as the tears fall from my face onto the desolate ground,
I stand there frozen.
Lost. At a loss.
I can't breathe.
Every breath is like a gasp for air.

The void in my heart fills with gaping streams of sorrow-filled, silent screams.
And all I can see is utter darkness.

And felt as beautiful as you think she is.

I wish I walked into a room and grabbed attention as much as she grabs yours.

I wish I spoke and captivated someone the way she captivates you when she says your name.

I wish I awoke in the morning and heard my true love's heartbeat next to mine as she does every day.

I wish I knew a love as strong as your love for her.

I do not wish for your love, though, because I know that is one thing that is far out of my reach. I only wish for someone to love me the way that you love her, so that maybe someday I will love him as much as I still love you.

I'm going to assume you had a mother,
as so many do.
You might even have a sister.
One day, you'll be a father.
It might be a daughter.

I'm someone's daughter.
Don't you understand?
I'm not just an object.
How would you feel,
if someone did this to your daughter
or mother or sister or friend?

I am from Pakistan...
Yesterday on 16 December, 2014 our city Peshawar got attacked.  Terrorism at it's peak!
Innocent kids and teachers were brutally killed by the terrorists. These martyrs didn't know that there    life was going to end like this!
My whole nation is bleeding.teachers were burnt in front of their students. Bullets were sprayed on innocent lives. THIS ISN'T HUMANITY!  THIS ISN'T WHAT ISLAM TEACHES! THOSE TERRORISTS **** OTHERS IN THE NAME OF GOD BUT THIS ISN'T WHAT GOD WANTS FROM US.
I REQUEST you all to pray for the young martyrs because humanity has no Boundaries!  
Thankyou.

These hands are not mine tonight
no they must belong to someone else

someone that I used to know
used to know all too well

I used to watch those hands grasping endless steaming mugs of tea
wash dishes slowly between 1 and 3 (am of course)
turn yellow pages one by one
how they could fend off sleep with every movement

I used to watch them slick with soap caressing every plate and spoon
folding sheets still warm from the dryer

anything to keep from halting, pausing
resting even for a moments time to think

as I now sit and think looking down at those hands
think how much they still can not be mine

for I am resting, sleeping
halting them from moving endlessly

so they, must not be mine

This is not a poem of things that have happened
but things that never happened
this is a poem of lost things
pushed so far down they are forgotten

this is a poem of feelings
the ones that seem to have no place at all but still twist knots into your stomach
making muscles **** and spasm while icy fingers claw at your spine
while somewhere in your mind is lurking the hidden reasons for it all

why the sound of creaking floor boards sends frantic ripples through your mind
fingers gripping at your neck harsher then a nightmares kiss
can leave you in a seconds space on your knees and feeling sick
heart beat pounding in your chest, skin beaded with the coldest sweat

yet when questioned, queried, pressed to supply some kind of answer to any sudden change of action
you can only stand at a loss mind grasping at the empty spaces where a memory has been forever lost