~
I am standing in such a space
that like an event horizon
where there everything is moving towards the dark
and usually the opposite is the light

The two ways are very distinct
the light
and the dark
but I am wondering for light
And I see,
any existence of objects that stand on the space,
and even time moving towards the dark

The attraction of dark is too high
its gravity beyond,
attracting the young and the old
it bends all the waves and moving towards the black hole
passing as clouds through the event horizon
where there I have stood
there is a boundary
between the heaven and hell

On the boundary,
the hell I see very near
and the heaven, I saw before
cause still I have some feelings
and all my feelings are accumulating in the bean
but the feelings have a little gravity
either good or evil
neither soft nor compact
all drops from the heaven's wall

It has grown more with time
compact more and more
either in core of heart or in pore of spaces
neither in sticky sand nor in the serene soul
all are moving toward the dark

And finally,
I see a big crunch in the dark
but still some particles of light are floating over the dark
and some are still struggling on the horizon
others are waiting on the event horizon to move toward the dark hell
and I am standing on the wall of the event horizon
neither my mind wants to move in the hell
nor I can moving back to the heaven

~
@Musfiq us shaleheen

You have two choices
lay down and die
or get up and live

I hope these words
Make you fall for me
Because I don't have much going for me
Maybe the way you heard,
How I speak your name.
Will affect the breaths you take.
And I'll find what I need to spark the flame.
Whisper to me how I can fix your heartache.

There are bare-breasted women
lounging in the unmade bed
of my mind.
They teach me chords on the piano,
and how to stay grateful
in the face of time;
how it lingers between seconds,
but years go by unannounced.

We don't make love. We ****,
taking back each wasted Sunday
spent talking to G-d,
or waiting for political truth.
They run their fingers over my back,
send me to a sleep
of dried sweat and loving violence.
They send me sunflower seeds and ****

in the post,
so I can bloom by the open window
and feel warmth through winter.
There are powerful women
laying down the law by the clock tower.
They stand up for Syria
and challenge the authority
I had conjured in my mind.

I meant to pen a happy poem
But somehow, ended up with this same old song
Heart in shreds
Dry tears shed
Overran with a fresh fload as a awake
Been too broken to, again, break
But, that's just a thought, I still break anyways.

Does the sun still smile?
This gloom has lasted too long a time
Does the stars still twinkle?
No equation is, again, simple
Do we still know beauty?
Everything is gone dark and ugly
We must all be a broken people

Weeping last only for the night
Morning is going to bring a new reason to smile
Though the night may seem to have lasted too long
Surely there is always a new song
We could either wait or
Create our own options, which most often wrong.

I am broken
You are broken
We all are broken
But if we treat the threads as a whole dress
Not as single individual threads
Then we are on the way to redress
No more broken me
Nor broken you
Just a healed and mended people.

No matter what I write
Or how I write it,
Nothing will sound as beautiful to me
As the sounds you make
When I touch you.

She leaves a lump of emotion in your throat,
A string of topaz around your neck,
And a sense of wonder in her wake.
She is a collection of faults,
Sweet imperfections,
A series of dents in a smooth surface.
She smokes her cigarettes as an apology
For breathing
And loves the feeling of holding hands,
But with a wine bottle.
Her blood has been replaced with whiskey
And bad decisions
And she'll touch you like poetry,
Sweetly, making you feel like
You're not alone.
She is drenched in honey and holy water
And you want to lick it off her,
Craving the taste with every fiber of your being.
She is violently beautiful,
That honey drenched dreamer.