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 May 2016
Stephan
.

*His words,
once a celebration of love,
poetic affection,
written from the deepest
part of his heart
for her,

are now
nothing more than
creased and torn
pages of empty verses
shoved in the back pocket
of his worn out jeans

Ink bleeding between
the lines of a man
who believed he mattered,
only to find that he is
as insignificant
as his writings,

a forgotten poet,
a dried up pen in hand,
scratching sad poetry
on a lonely sidewalk
between the cracks of his life,
etchings of who he once was
 May 2016
phil roberts
Tripping over words of trust
Crawling backwards
Breathing dust
Mingling with the mental rust
Well, if I must
If I must

I'll march right through the gates of hell
Me and satan
Playing show and tell
The sulphur
And the smell
Yes it smells

I'll crawl through the deepest slime
However hard
I'll keep trying
But there's an end to the line
So don't waste my time
I'm running out of time

                                  By Phil Roberts
 May 2016
Viji Suresh
God: Something everyone ponders. For the theist "what if he doesn't exist?" and to an atheist, "what if he does exist?"
 May 2016
Viji Suresh
Hurt is rhyming to Heart, and love is no were near that.
 May 2016
Kj
dating a writer
is like guessing the weather.
you think you know what you'll get,
but you never do.

you never know
because

she'll create a hero
from your weaknesses

and she'll write a great character,
from every last flaw.

she'll create a thousand plots  
from your worst nightmares.

she'll take every last thing you hate
and create something you'll love.

she'll turn your anger
into confessions of adoration,

and she'll make you,
everything you're not.

but worst of all,
she'll leave you wondering-
is it you she's in love with,
or things she's created from you?

but here's the beauty of it:

if you date a writer,
you'll never die.
 May 2016
s
a love that does not exist in his eyes but only in mine
 May 2016
allison
Texts I never sent once you left me, again*

1. Nothing feels as comforting as your arms around me.  I remember feeling weightless with you.  Now, my body is constantly strained from carrying my broken heart.  It's so heavy.  I'm so ******* heavy...I'm sorry you're heavy too.

2. I'm not happy with what I've done or who I have become while loving you. I'm sorry for being so hazy

3. Last year, I made a promise to myself to only surround myself with positive people.  Coincidentally, I met you shortly after.  We grew attached at the hip, always together. Your antics rubbed off on me, along with your enthusiasm. I've been isolating myself since you left.  I broke that promise to myself- when I needed to keep it most

4. You shouldn't have to justify why you fell out of love. I'm sorry for begging you to

5.  My grandmother told me I would have my heart broken before I found the one, but if I was lucky, the same person would repair the damages he had caused.  I was heart broken the first time you left, but you came back.  Why aren't you coming back now?

6. I'm heavy again, I'm sure you are free by now

7.  People tell me my sadness is pretty, that the words spewing from my heart are divine, but my words were never enough to make you stay

8.  I want you here. I want you to kiss the marks I created when I didn't want to wake up.

9.  I miss you eminently and sometimes I can't feel my body.  Please don't tell me you understand or that I'll be okay.  You aren't ******* listening

10.  I woke up choking your name

11.  Every single time you promised to stay- you should have clarified that you meant as a memory

12.  I've been splitting my veins like glow sticks in hopes of seeing new light

13.  I'm ******* tired of all the metaphors, why can't it all just be about you again

14.  Poe encountered a raven, while I encountered you.  Somehow we both went mad

15.  goodnight
 May 2016
Keren
That was euphoria
Im in when I dreamt of you.
Stars and moon are in my grasp
Thinking I'd never wake up.
Aisle with petals---**you're waiting
Tanka
 May 2016
Sk Abdul Aziz
I am an empty canvas waiting to be filled with the colours of love
For ages i've been sitting on that wooden frame with a sense of hope in my eyes
A hope that someday some artist will pay attention to me
And fill me up with the most exquisite of colours
And the curse of my emptiness will be broken
I want to be someone's masterpiece
But the years just keep rolling by
Alas!...no one even takes a look at me
I was and still continue to remain empty
So dear fate....i ask you very humbly
Please look into your crystal ball and tell me
Will anyone ever care to paint me?
Will anyone ever fill me up with her colours?
I have been white for far too long
It's time i felt some colours
I don't want to end up as just another empty painting
So dear fate please help me out here
Just talk to that guy named 'love'
And please try and arrange something
'Coz honestly I'm dying out here
 May 2016
Keren
Im a pen without an ink.
A night sky without stars
A classroom without bulletin boards
A car without wheels
An icecream without toppings
A bread without a butter
A plant without flowers
A tv without channels
Im nothing.
Im not good for you.
Im a leftover.
An outcast, a rebel.
Im no one.
But you see museums in me
When i only see empty corridors.
 May 2016
Viji Suresh
Beneath the Golden moon,
The waves shimmer,  
Like silver streaked with gold,
The beauty lies before me,
I dreamt of you stealing behind me..
Together we witnessed the serenity screened for us,
Sound of the sea orchestrated a wild Symphony,
Waves dancing on silver sand,
The salty peanuts you fed me there..
My tongue cleaning your fingers without a speck...
Content you continued to write from where you left.
I continued to type this song, continuous without a period...
This is just one evening of our lives...
There might be many,
There might be none,
But,  Its easy I can reproduce you through my memory,
Another moonlit night and you stealing behind..
The winds might roar then,
The moon might disappear without trace,
We will stand and witness the waves roar,
A wild dance that threatens and we step back,
A hurricane may brew before our eyes,
But, my heart calm resting at your side...
A cold ice cream this time,  rain washing your sticky fingers,
You nod at me and I followed,  
A Spring morning,  when the tides lazed and slept...
You held a tulip and ran on my cheeks,
I stood there closing my eyes...
It's time to reproduce you back,
The Scottish village idyllic before our eyes.
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