Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
20h · 78
A Healing Death
Najla 20h
There is such
loneliness in
my heart, and
it consumes me
each deathly night

Weeping I laid
and waited for
the tears to dry,
but they remained
on my face like
a wound that
won’t seem to heal
About last night.
3d · 72
A Prayer
Najla 3d
The thought of you lingers
like a ghost that haunts
its old lover’s house

I spit your name
out of my heart,
and hope to never
remember you
3d · 80
Najla 3d
A longing-pain
took hold of
my anguished heart
for I’ve missed you terribly

A rosebud
bursts into bloom,
and my thoughts
wander towards death
3d · 281
A Ruined Birthday
Najla 3d
You have forsaken me
in May,
now I know that every
love is prone to decay
Najla 3d
Maybe my heart will
stop crying all night long,
and I will be able to sleep

Maybe you will stop
walking in my dreams
like you’re still mine

Maybe my eyes
will forget yours,
and I won’t weep

Maybe my skin won’t
crave your touch, and
my hand won’t ache
to be held by yours
I guess I will keep writing about my ex till I run out of words.
4d · 157
Suicide Note
Najla 4d
Joy overcomes me
born out of agony

Still I am burning
I cannot be saved

When my soul departs,
know that I am glad to go
Najla 4d
A heaven for an hour
for when I’m with her

A long desired kiss that
turns pain into a song
I have never heard

I would not long for death as
long as you remember my name
4d · 101
Najla 4d
I scratched my head,
and a memory got
stuck under my nail

I wiped my salty tears,
this poem skipped a line

I sang to my aching heart,
it is yearning to be broken, again
Call it love

If I leave, I wonder if
peace will visit my grave
6d · 100
Najla 6d
Those eyes,
those cold almond eyes,
that once were welcoming
at the sight of me,
like a warm welcoming home

But now they swallow me,
like the sea swallows
an old forgotten treasure
About a curly haired barista I once fell for.
6d · 147
12:42 AM
Najla 6d
I am all the dreams
you had at night,
but forgotten
in the morning
Happy Valentine everyone.
Feb 10 · 244
Najla Feb 10
And when she left,
I kept her lucky bamboo alive,
and wished that the leaves
will speak to me in her voice

But the leaves has grown quiet,
and turned into my favorite color

Does that mean our love has withered?
Have I only been speaking with the dead?
I miss her ******. I can't stop myself from writing poems about her.
Feb 10 · 96
Najla Feb 10
I miss her
like all my unfinished poems
Feb 10 · 108
An Ode To Her
Najla Feb 10
I thought of you after a year,
but this time I didn't weep

Only my heart ached
over your absence
that left me breathless

I held your scent in my lungs
till you suffocated me
with your crooked smile
and broken promises

I swallowed your name
under my tongue,
and now my words
rhyme with your initial

I thought of you after a year,
but this time I weeped
I've been missing her a lot. What do you do when you miss a person who's abandoned you?
Dec 2019 · 347
9:44 PM
Najla Dec 2019
I am yearning with
an ache for something
sharp to caress my arms
I'm trying to resist the urges, but my arms are yearning. I don’t want to start cutting again, I don’t. I can’t study nor focus on anything else. I can feel my soul ache for the gushing blood. How do I stop this? What if I lose control?
Dec 2019 · 196
The Yellow Song
Najla Dec 2019
My heart sings
the bluest song,
but no one is
around to hear it

I hope one day,
my heart sings
a yellow song
that rhymes with
happiness and serenity
Dec 2019 · 212
Najla Dec 2019
Keep thy head underwater—
staying afloat will not
quench this thirst of yours

10:22 PM
Dec 2019 · 146
Najla Dec 2019
I am nothing
but a swordfish

sick of living

sick of living
Dec 2019 · 139
Azrael’s Garden
Najla Dec 2019
A rotten skull
wired to feel melancholy

A nightmare self
that only saw freedom
at the tip of a kitchen knife
isolated from this life

A mind
with death plants
flourishing inside it

A garden of Angel's Trumpet
abloom with a deadly touch
recherché but poisonous

One of Azrael’s early visitors,
I’m now a flower in his graveyard
Najla Dec 2019
An angel,
spreading her wing
to take me under it
to ease the anguish
of my deserted heart

A heavenly creature
fled from a lover’s hell
to purify her stained heart

I never felt loneliness
till my lusted angel
flew back to her realm

Will she ever fly back
and risk losing another feather?
Dec 2019 · 102
Even If He Moves You
Najla Dec 2019
I whispered to my heart
filled with yearning,
“Be still”

Even if the curly ropes
of his hair
leaves you trembling
with an unsatisfiable hunger

“Be very still
dear anguished heart of mine”,
but as a leaf
I quiver
clinging desperately
by a bleak bough

For soon I’ll flutter
with the wind,
and fall down
along with my sorrows

As the fallen leaves
withered and loveless,
I shall crumble and disappear
Dec 2019 · 964
Not A Suicide Note
Najla Dec 2019
A drunken god has
spoke you into existence
A stolen diary that told you,
it’s a sin to return this body
even if its weak bones
couldn’t carry the weight
of your heavy heart

I know I can speak myself out of it
With a blade in my hand
standing on the edge of the stage,
I’ll wait for the Almighty to sober up
and watch me steal his role

After twenty years of rehearsal
I’ll play god,
lights will go off,
and curtains will close

Your followers will clap in awe
at my convincing performance

As I bow before them
As I fall before you
This is merely satire.
Dec 2019 · 184
On Feeling Homesick
Najla Dec 2019
I’m accompanied
by two tonight,
agony and her
beloved insomnia

Nothing lives inside
me any longer  
Perhaps I orphaned
this heart of mine,
when I didn’t listen
to its desperate cries
in need for a shelter

Cursed with homesickness,  
an abysmal void grew within me
that’s where I found refuge
Dec 2019 · 1.1k
Najla Dec 2019
Anxiety wraps
itself around me,

like a coat that
doesn’t fit me

like a lover that
doesn’t love me

like a fire that
doesn’t warm me
I rewrote this poem because it felt unfinished.
Dec 2019 · 701
My Diet
Najla Dec 2019
I am on a diet
from sharp knives

I have been fasting
for about two months

Here is my clean
untouched wrists

But what if I got thirsty
for a drop of my blood?

What if I got hungry, and swallowed
all the knives in the kitchen drawer?
I haven’t cut in about two months or maybe a month and a half I can’t remember, but it’s been so long since my hands laid on a knife. I am craving that rush of blood. I am scared of getting hungry.
Dec 2019 · 270
Najla Dec 2019
Hot summer breeze,
long sleeves, and
scars you cannot see
Dec 2019 · 417
I Long
Najla Dec 2019
To be kissed
by your eyes

To be touched
by your voice

To be held
by your lips

To be tangled
by your hair
Dec 2019 · 161
Najla Dec 2019
When my eyes met
hers for the first time,
they spelled the word “love”
Another poem I had in a dream
Dec 2019 · 695
Sun Worshiper
Najla Dec 2019
The thing about
a sunflower and I

Is the sunflower would
wither if the sun stopped
kissing her every morning

And just like the sunflower
needs the sun to flourish,

I need you near me
for I bloom by your kisses

And just like the sunflower
worships the morning sun,

I worship your
cold almond eyes
I woke up from a dream and wrote this poem.
Dec 2019 · 215
A Pen, A Survival
Najla Dec 2019
I write so not to
suffocate on my
smoky thoughts

I write so not to
forget that I, too,
have a voice that
won’t be silenced

I write so not to
use the knife
as an outlet

I write so not to
choke on the thorny words
that linger in my throat

I write so not to
be hushed by my—
inner demons
—sweet seductress

I write so not to
burn alone in
my own inferno

I write so not to
Why I write poetry.
Dec 2019 · 321
Najla Dec 2019
The chained ankles
are heavy and aching
with ****** bruises

The chained ankles
would rather break free
Dec 2019 · 242
About Christopher
Najla Dec 2019

Christopher is utterly wrapped
within the cocoon of his own mind.

One can vividly see him
as he struggles with
understanding what
others think, feel, and believe.

Therefore, his self-identity,
his idea of himself,
is practically the same as his
sense of the outside world.

Unlike everyone else,
Christopher does not seem to care
about being identified by other people.

He prefers to spend his time by his lonesome,
it somehow keeps him more connected with
reality which is something he struggles with.

Christopher is quite an observer,
he views the world
in a distinct, but a unique way.

Christopher never uttered the word father,
for it was heavy on his tongue,
like heavy rain on a bleak midnight.  

His mother loved him, or
ruined him and called it love.
He cannot tell the difference
between these two things.

So whenever he loved someone,
he’d unintentionally break their heart,
and utterly ruin any chance of love.

Christopher beloved was
in the shape of a knife,
so he used her to write this story.
The gushing blood was his ink,
and the tears were his last silent screams
A short story.
Nov 2019 · 369
Goodbye, Aphrodite
Najla Nov 2019
Let me whisper
my last goodbye
between your lips

Oh, won’t you let me
bury this poem along
with our dead love

And pour my salty tears
upon your naked shoulder
This poem has been lingering in my throat so here.
Nov 2019 · 290
Mother With A Silent M
Najla Nov 2019
This morning,
I’ve shed the heaviest tear
after twenty-one years
of deadly silence
Nov 2019 · 366
Stolen Innocence
Najla Nov 2019
was the first
to steal
my innocence

will be my last
silent cry
to regain
my purity
Today was the first time I uttered the words child ****** abuse followed by the word mother. And the first time I cry in front of my therapist. Time doesn’t heal all wounds, but death will.
Nov 2019 · 139
Najla Nov 2019
I break myself with each line
I write because I can’t make
pain rhyme with happiness
I don’t know.
Nov 2019 · 211
White Flag
Najla Nov 2019
The thing I use to fight with
has turned against me,
and is winning the battle

The enemy—
my own mind
—is about to attack,
and I’m unable to act

And now all I’m left with
is scars that never seem
to be healing,
I never seem
to be healing

A handful of pills
in my palm,
their color is a sign
of truce, purity,
and surrender

And I surrender

So here is my shield,
my sword,
my soul,
I no longer want
to fight this battle
My mind wants to **** me, and I’m no longer fighting it.
Nov 2019 · 103
An Apology Letter
Najla Nov 2019
You tried sailing
to my shores,

but I was
in a sea of my own

I still am

Forgive me,
I couldn’t let you
sink with me
An actual letter I sent to my ex lover..
Nov 2019 · 110
Najla Nov 2019
Blood is red
Veins are blue
Mix the two colors together,
and they will leave a bruise
The knife is purple too. Sometimes black.
Nov 2019 · 88
Ashtray of Cries
Najla Nov 2019
I heard you call my name in a dream
Did you need me, my dear?

I stayed up night after night
just to hear your I love you’s
just to hear your repetitive lies

Won’t you come back again?
Lie to me my dear darling one

I beg of you,
my dear,
my light,
in the shedding bleak midnight,
come to me with your wounds

Or at least get me a cigarette,
and leave me to drown along with my sorrows
Nov 2019 · 122
Najla Nov 2019
I wrote a poem
and named it after her
because it ends too early
Nov 2019 · 127
Shooting Star, Falling Rock
Najla Nov 2019
O, be the starry sky,
and I will be your
ever tender star

But don’t let me
be the lone moon
Nov 2019 · 120
Najla Nov 2019
Being mentally ill is draining,
so is breathing,
so is staying alive,
so is being hopelessly hopeful

But I will decay gracefully
for this pain is more than I can bear
Nov 2019 · 62
Part II
Najla Nov 2019
They reminded you
that you are still here,
still one with the livings,

and now you sleep
with a knife in hand
to feel safer from the ghosts
that perch on your bed

And later you will use that
knife ‘cause you will never
be safe from your ghostly self

And on a bleak morning you
will search your bed for that
knife with your scarred wrists

You see,
you have already swallowed that knife
after years of starvation, but you still
couldn’t satisfy your hunger  

It is now stuck in your throat
along with every lingering word
you buried inside your foreign heart,
and now it cuts from under your skin

And this is why you have no tears
And this is why you cannot sleep
And this is why you hate love

You teared yourself apart,
and forgot that you could heal
Hate this one even more.
Nov 2019 · 86
You Are One With The Dead
Najla Nov 2019
She madly loved you,
and now she loathes you

You told her the truth
about your soul, and
how you don’t have one

How your heart has died,
but started to rapidly beat
when she held your frigid hand

She tasted the pain you’ve warned her
about for so long, yet she stayed

Till you poisoned her pure heart
Till you suffocated her by breathing

He loved you to death,
but his hurt brought you
back with the dead

You’ve forgotten them,
and yourself too
I hate this poem.
Nov 2019 · 275
Don’t Exhale Her Just Yet
Najla Nov 2019
I might’ve inhaled her scent
when we were making our
soon to be last goodbyes

Her scent filled my lungs
So I held my breath
and counted to ten

Countless tens,
I lost track

I inhaled the smoke

I buried what she felt like

I exhaled her out of me

When breathing felt
the same as drowning—

and I’ve drowned myself once

—I gasped for her scent
with each breath I took
Nov 2019 · 230
A Breathing Corpse
Najla Nov 2019
All my years I’ve been preparing to die,
and now they’re forcing me to stay alive
Claiming they can heal my wounded soul
by shocking my brain causing more trauma

How do you go back
from being buried?
How do you find peace
when you know what’s awaiting you?
How do you love
when your heart has stopped?
How do you remember
when you’ve lost your mind?
How do you cry
when you don’t have tears?
How do you overcome your past
if it’s still your present?
What do people do with their lives
if their whole being didn’t yearn for its doom?

How do I start?
Where do I begin?

This is the first day of my life
where I’m not suicidal, and
I don’t know what there is to do
when death was my only salvation

I don’t know this new version of me;
the one who doesn’t find it impossible
to stay for another day,
another endless night

I’m scared of shifting back
I’m scared of being buried
by my own deadly psyche
I’m scared of dying again

Things are more lighter and clearer now
The elephant in the room is no
longer perched upon my chest,
and my wrists are no longer
bleeding only the scars remains

What if I get hungry again and can’t
find anything to feed on, but my own blood?
What if I woke up in a casket again?

I can’t help but wonder
for how long is this going to last?
How long am I going to last?
I hope this lasts,
I can hope like others do!
I’m hoping again
which is a sign of life!

Am I deluding myself?
Am I better or worse?

I need someone to squeeze my hand
just so I know that this is real
It’s dangerous when you’re stuck
in a state where nothing feels real
No matter how deep
you went to draw blood,
you still don’t feel like you’re here

In my head I’ve already
killed myself, long ago,
and now my corpse is
somehow trying to breathe again?

This goes against logic
This goes against my own head
My head is going against
its own suicidal thoughts
Am I going to look back at this,
and not believe that one day
One day I felt alive enough to breathe,
and not wish I wasn't
A burst of emotions I felt a month ago, but I’m buried by my own deadly psyche once again. I wish those feelings lasted for longer. Perhaps I was manic during that time. I just wish I wasn’t so suicidal. I’ve completely given up.
Nov 2019 · 96
Najla Nov 2019
A pill in the morning,
and one before I sleep

Pearly white and motherly,
I like them better than me

I awoke today, and felt a strange force
pulling at my stomach and tearful soul

Hollow and motherless,
they have left my body

Could the side effects be the body’s way of refusing to heal?
Am I swallowing bombs or chemical kisses?
Will they mother me, and bring back my mind?

Dear my aching body,
I promise you;
this is not another suicide

So be still,
be very still,
and keep the pills down  

Don’t whine
Don’t cuss
Don’t fuss
Don’t resist 
Don’t fright
Don’t fight
Don’t cry
Don’t die

This is not a suicide
My stubborn body is refusing the new meds, or they’re refusing me.
Nov 2019 · 610
Orchids Not Death
Najla Nov 2019
There used to be butterflies
living inside my chest,

but they turned into bats
when it got dark

The bats fed on my blood,
and my chest was their cave

There used to be orchids
above my ears and to my short hair

But now I am dead,
the weeping orchid bled

As it withered upon my grave,
and emitted the scent of death and I

Its decayed petals dropped,
like blood from cut veins

The corpse flower,
scentless bloom of death belongs
I want orchids not death
Nov 2019 · 289
A Love Story
Najla Nov 2019
My lover’s name is Depression,
and he clings himself to me,
like a ghost that still haunts
its old lover’s house  

I wash off my mouth,
but still taste him

I wrote him endless poems,
but he demands that
I **** myself for him
so he knows it is real

“I don’t want to see you with other people”
he yelled and his face turned blood-red

“I want to engrave my name in your heart”
he said with a knife in hand

“I want to consume you”
he whispered in a flirtatious way

“I want you to disappear with me tonight”
he said as he grabbed me by the hand,
and we disappeared together
I am weary.
Nov 2019 · 224
Najla Nov 2019
A knife
caressing my thighs
to my wrists

A chemical mixture
swallowed down
with a drink

A lover
you’ve never tasted
Next page