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 Jan 2015 Cecelia Francis
Lyn
The ink screams the words,
I could not even whisper.
 Jan 2015 Cecelia Francis
Q
bewildered that this text
this forgotten scribe
uplifts the feelings
i try so hard to bury inside

this scribbled stanza
relieves pressure and pain
slowly allowing me to
stop reliving the shame

words once read
in black and white
submerged in emotions
high, light, and bright

letting your painted face
in my memory vault fade
ebbing in the distance
while these words continue to invade

funny is that our feelings exist
so playful and irrational
yet followed zealously
feels greater than feels, professional

*s.q.
 Jan 2015 Cecelia Francis
Q
Raiz
 Jan 2015 Cecelia Francis
Q
He puts me in a haze
everytime we blaze
I gaze
with dismay
and pray
someday
that I may
disobey
this craving heart


*s.q.
"Irz kiya hay
Aansu aa jatay hain aankhon main,
Per labon pay hansi lani parti hay,
Yeh mohabbat bhi kia cheez hay ,
Jis sey kertay ** usi say chupani parti hay"
 Jan 2015 Cecelia Francis
Q
accept the reality
the faith of humanity
lack of gains
broken veins
blood struck tub
slowing lub dub

breath it out
in these unheard words
these sown letters
messages for him
who's eyes will never see

does it matter?
what's the latter
nothing will amount from this felt pain
nothing but shattered hopes and created chains
stop holding him so near
let go, he'll never only be here

this ***** has a climb but the top will come
stop hoping, just live and soon it'll be done


*s.q.
 Jan 2015 Cecelia Francis
Monika
When he asks you to write about him, remind him that you are not that kind of poet. When he asks you to describe his eyes, stop yourself from telling him how bright they are and how they remind you of the stars you stare at in the late night. Do not tell him they are brighter than any of those stars and while they may not light up the whole sky, they sure as hell light up your heart. Instead, smile and tell him that they are just blue – nothing is very special about them. He will ask you why your hands and lips tremble when you're with him, but you mustn't explain how fast your heart beats when he looks at you, or how sometimes you swear your lungs fill up with smoke when you hear him laugh soundly because of something you said. You shouldn't write about him, because you're not the kind of girl that writes about someone who could be here one day, and easily gone the next.
"I do believe his mouth is heaven, his kisses falling over me like stars."
 Jan 2015 Cecelia Francis
Amy
Sometimes we're too much,
and not enough,
for people who are everything,
and nothing at all.
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