Please come home,
For I have weakened over time.
This constant clinking in my head won't go.
I struggle to stay sane.
People speak with the spice of words,
Yet their words don't stop me from coming back.
How can someone drop a feeling?,
Drop a heart note?
I am failing at a quest that is easy.
Help,
And come back home to me

Like smoke in my lungs, it is an acquired taste that I could not bring myself to quit. And now that I have, the flavor is unprecedentedly toxic.
2. Your name is merely a catalyst to my relapse. You turned your head away from it then, and I know you will turn your head away from it now.
3. To hear that beautiful arrangement of letters coming from my own lips only reminds me of the genuine smile on your face that you can only have when I am gone. And every time it makes me wonder if I truly mean it when I say I am happy for you.
4. I cannot reconcile what is with what could have been. Maybe if I was still yours and you were still mine, it would be endearing to say your name.
5. When it's 4 am and I am falling apart in my half empty bed, I cannot find the breath to utter your name between sobs.
6. I have spent too much time pretending that your absence has had no affect on me that I have not yet grieved. But, I could never pity myself without shouting your name into an empty void.
7. Maybe I am only idealizing you, but his name left a bitter taste and I have been craving yours on my lips.
8. I cannot say your name because I know that if you were to turn your head in recognition, I'd get lost in those blue eyes and fall for you all over again.
9. There is no logic behind how I inherited the right to say your name. Since you have left, this complacency is eating me alive and I am only left to wonder why someone so beautiful would have ever touched a soul like mine.
10. I cannot speak of your name any longer because it is no longer my privilege. It is hers to say now.

The moon was so bright it was as bright as the moon.
The stars looked as radiant as stars in the sky.
You were next to me, and it felt as if you were near me.
And we held hands till they cramped up and were crippled for life.
This is so unromantic it's not romantic at all.
And it's not very poetic, it's not even poetry.
We were lying there under the trees...
Trees,
Swaying in the wind like my thoughts about butts.

You don't deserve a poem.
Since you're such a *****.
You don't need the comfort.
When all you do is ignore it.

/
Many and
Many years later
My Poetry books
That I had lost
From the middle of the bookshelf
Within Thousands of many other books
Where I have found
 
Utterly Unknown
Some Pages
Yellow
Pale
Is very difficult to read
Yet quietly reading
I read with a lot of the force
Crawling.
As a Small child walking
Many years later,
Understand
Know
Become that Strange Poem

The Poem
Showed me Dreams
Told me to Love
Strikingly,
Bought all the Colors of my Canvas
Drawn your Images
That happened,
Many and
Many years before
In my Heart and the Soul

Then
You and I
Grew as a highly Sophisticated
Metaphor,
In an extreme
Cohesion,
Nice One

My Heart put on your Heart
In a Romantic Tune
Bode on a Small Boat
Toward a Tough Sea,
That happened,
Many and
Many years before
In the Song of the Sea

Then
Sudden Sea Storm Came
Made Substantially Vortex water
We Drowned
Lost you
That also happened
Many and
Many years before
In this Sea and my Soul

Today I have found you again
In a Sprung Dream
As I lost you
Many and
Many years before
As if I'm standing
On the Shore of the Sea
You as a form of Sea Angel
Come forward to me-
/
@Musfiq us shaleheen

i am not your type? i'm no prince charming, i don't seem dashing
but i could be a charmander that can always re-lights our passion
i could make all your enemies writhe and burn
or the one that keeps your soul and body warm

drag your feet across the carpet,
i'll make your hair stand on end
i can be electric
fill your head with sparks

I'd be a rock type to you, for such a phenomenon
I'd be a boldore person that you could lean on.
I will anchor you down from thoughts of those with moodyness
And envy of my partner who's so pulchritudinous.

I could be photosynthetic, eat a mouthful of dirt for you
I'd go green with envy over any other lover
Let me be your grass type, I could be your ****
(Or just let me deScyther your thoughts)

I could be your faucet let your feelings flow through me
And I will sink every krabby memory you rue. See,
Can be emotional too, I could drown you in thought.
I could be your water type, without me you'll rot.

There will never be a reason to run away
I will always find how to give you a sunny day
It isn't unknown, to succeed, I will always find the words
I could be- wait you mean you don't like nerds?

I remember that wonderful lady like I remembered the scab on my right knee.
She was from Georgia, a honey sweet peach that lived a blocked away from me on Summer Set avenue.

She was as white as snow and fragile like my mom's glass figurines.
She always wore her long bleached grey hair in a pull-back tight bun,
almost like a nun. She would always wear powdered makeup that seemed to be brought from the 50's,

Very pastel and brittle on her gentle old skin.

She was humble like the bees, soft talking too.

I remember every early summer weekend I would walk on down to that lady's house.
I would knock on her burgundy shiny wooden door and peek through her small window filled with cat-like collections.

She would let me in and treat me almost like I was her own.
She would sit me down on her floral sofa and whip me up my favorite treat,
Oatmeal baked cookies with a tall glass of hickory sweet lemon tea.

My favorite.

This lady was everything and anything.
She would wrap me in her quilted blanket and play some classical 50's tunes,
We would swing on her back porch and count the Blue Jays in the sky.
I loved the way she would tell her magnificent stories,
The way she talked sounded like soothing waves of the seven seas.

I loved her.

Her deep, poetic advices gave me hope,
It made me realize my inner self.

As the days became weary and the summer sun was drifting,
That wonderful lady was getting weary herself.
She was able to hang as long as anyone I can think of.
At least she stood her grounds and fought for every penny she made in her life.

What a trooper.

I'll never forget that wonderful lady,
She was like a grandma to me.
I actually felt I had someone to talk to during those long summers.

What a wonderful lady.

It was one, hot, soothing day, and i was still going to summer camp. We all headed to the beach that day. My friend and i had the hunger of wild animals. We rushed over to the food stand for some delicious chili dogs n nachos. Boy, it was a long time. We waited in the blistering heat, starving. While we were waiting, a song was playing from afar. "It's in the Morning" from Robin Thicke. When we me and my friend heard the song, we analyzed every part of it. From lyric to lyric, chorus to chorus. It was fun. This kept us busy till our scrumptious food came. This was the best day ever.