You'll get hurt.
End up miserable.
Be left alone.
Have a broken heart.
Shed buckets of tears.
Feel unbearable pains.

These are the reasons
Not to fall in love.

But,
When it comes to love,
The heart knows no limit,
No risk,
It will do anything it wants.
That's the magic of love;
It can make even the most intelligent people  
Lose their logic and common senses.
                                                                                                                                    
So, forget these risks,
Forget the possibility of crashing.
Forget the chances of failing.

Coz eventually,
Unknowingly,
Your heart will soon beat for someone.

Fall in love deeply,
Intensely,
Passionately,
Unconditionally,
Genuinely.

Fal­l in love in spite of it all;
Who knows,
You'll be that lucky
To fall for someone who will forever make you happy.
♡

I'm faced with quite a dilemma
Hoping someone can help me out
Over time I've used and abused all my letters
From top to bottom, in between, North to South

I tossed them all out on the paper
Many times quite recklessly
From left to right, black on white
Like they were nothing...A through Z

I've used some of them so often
It's hard now to tell what they were
Like is that a "B" or a "P" before me
Since I've about worn off the "B"s bottom curve

And the "Q" I always use
I bring into question as well
Could that be an "O" my goodness
When was it I tore off it's tail

But the main problem I have is with the "M"
From now on I'll be known as "Nike"
Since it can no longer stand on its own
Now that I've knocked off the entire right side

Can you now see where it is I'm coming from
As I slowly wear each letter down
Scribbling them out on the written page
Here and there and there about

Maybe what I need is a new alphabet
Then I can start all over with ease
So can anyone out there kindly help me
With lessons in Arabic or perhaps even Chinese

No. You don't need to
Lose that weight.
The world has millions of men
That worship women just like you.

And besides, there's nothing sexier
Than the smile of a woman
Who knows she is.

To hell with a thin waist.
Buy yourself something nice
Instead of diet pills and unrevealing
Garments.

Relax. Stop avoiding mirrors
And asking friends if your **** looks
Big in those jeans.
Smile and be alive; laugh with your
Stomach, -no man can resist
A straight back and head held high
In self-acceptance.

It's not your body's fault that
You are alone. It is the fact
That you *think
It is.

Don’t need a reason why it happens so
Around me sparkle thousand stars
I beam in the happiness’ radiant glow
For having another day of loving her!

Dispel dark clouds the mind is set free
Dreadful stains on its wall disappear
It feels just enough to have her with me
Having another day of loving her!

Heals all the pain the one mystic light
Agonies turn back to recede far
It shows me the way to tide over the night
For having another day of loving her!

I feel so blessed when breaks a new dawn
Though it hides the east’s morning star
Reminds the bird chirps I’m not alone
With me is another day of loving her!

I can take as much pain
As my shadow.
Its impact's the same on us
Both.
We suffer in equal
Silence.
All you'll hear is the sound of our
Growth.

I.
you begin growing flowers
in a little garden,
in a *** on the kitchen windowsill,
in your hands,
in his veins,
in his heart,
in his head,
because you want him
only to think pretty little perfect thoughts.
you say that the garden
gives you something to do,
but I know that’s all he is to you.
just something to do.
just someone to make perfect.
you want to sit by
his bed and make sure that he gets
the perfect amount of
sun and
light and
water and
soil and
love and
nourishment and
I don’t know why
you and he don’t
break up; why he hasn’t
broken up with you
yet. you just want
to fix him.
that is not love

II.

you start
drinking coffee
more and
more and the little blue and pink striped coffee mug you use acquires
more and
more stains as you stay up past midnight
more and
more and “oh just one
more hour, I’ll go to bed.”
but that is
a lie.
it’s all a lie
my dear.
you say that the
coffee gives you energy,
but you said that about him
and you aren’t getting drunk on him
at 1 in the morning. you’ve been obsessing over him
and pretending that you do care, that you really love him.
you don’t love him,
you never have loved him.
you’re only using him
for your own selfish needs and you treat him
like the keurig you keep in your small apartment.
you’re with him because he
makes you feel young, he gives energy.
that is not love.

III.

you begin making hats
for your friends and
for your family and
for your colleagues and
for the **** addict two doors away and
for the homeless man you pass every day.
you say the hats occupy you,
but that's what you use him for.
you sit there with your
knitting needles
at his side fixing up his
"loose ends"
and then you give him away
to the world.
he is not a hat.
you cannot pick which perfect parts show
and make sure he is fixed before the world
sees him. he is
not a project to keep
you busy.
you only keep him so
you can make him perfect.
that is not love.

IV.

i begin telling you
that you are toxic for him,
you're ruining him,
you're making him
believe that since brokenness courses through him
he needs help. you cannot make him
hate him-
self even more than he does. you will ruin him
for everyone. i know you try to fix him
but you are breaking him.
he is naïve and he thinks there is something wrong with him
because you want to help him.
you make him
feel inferior by treating him
as such.
he is not a garden that you can nourish.
he is not a cup of coffee that you can use.
he is not a hat that you can make perfect.
he is a human.
treat him as such.
man, if i were lucky enough to be his,
he would not be treated inanimately.
he is a person.
love is not the same as fixing someone.
a romantic is not the same as a repairman.
your kind of love is not the same as my kind of love.
YOU DON’T LOVE HIM!!!
we all see how toxic you are
we all know what this love is doing to him.
you are so flawed in thinking
that you are actually helping him
live a better life. you are
not helping this boy
one bit.
you are harmful.
but we all knew this from the beginning.
you did this to me.
i was like a candle that
you decided
you could light whenever it benefitted
you. whenever
you needed me to be lit,
you would give me a fire, give me a spark. but as soon as
you were done with me,
you would put me out.
you cannot treat people the way
you do.
you cannot make them feel as worthless as
you do.
this love between you and he
is very toxic. you need
to fix yourself
and stop trying to fix him.
you’ve hurt dozens by
seeing them as
objects
and not as
people.

Every breath I breathe,
Is poison.

Every move I make.
Is weakened.

Every look I take,
To gaze upon you.

You are poison.
Yet I am,
addicted.

some days even when
everything in my life is in a crescendo
a part of me feels numb

a small part of me is numb to all the love,
all the joys, all the sadness, all emotions
all I feel is this numbness that comes out of
"a deep emptiness"

I know I cannot fill this vast emptiness,
so I cry out to a something greater than myself,
eventhough I don't have a clue what that might be

I embrace my numbness and accept that
life cannot be lived in extreme highs and lows
I want to embrace stability and not reject it as boredom

But some days I just want crawl into bed and not wake up
I feel so numb, and I have to remind myself that
"feelings aren't facts."

So I get out of bed and go through the motions
hoping against hope that someday my "deep emptiness"
is filled with an abiding love that will fill me to wholeness

There is afternoon in our mind
And Dreams wake up when the light is gone.

I put on your old watch. "Like father like son." ( —Not quite.) It is too big. I took a few links out but I'm leaner. All of the windows are open and the quiet fragments of unasked questions linger. I think I lost them in the newly occupied rooms of houses strangers now call home. Like an attic with limited storage space, I arrogantly discarded the opportunity to inherit your more worldly possessions —as though I believed your thoughts and memories weren't even worth it; like they would have been clutter. Unusable. But we are still too much alike. Every year I find more of you in my mirror. In my house. Downtown. At the dock.

Will I love my future children the way you loved me?

Mom still wakes up at 5:30, did you know? She makes me tea, and gives me a look she used to give you. I can see that she is afraid that I am becoming increasingly unreachable; that she is watching history repeat itself. She read it in your cards, and I guess she read it in mine too.

"You are so much like him," she'll fuss. She'll ask me to cut my hair for the hundredth time. "He liked that too," when I breathe in fresh air. Her garden was your favorite place in the world. "You know, your father..."

—She's getting married soon, but I can see that she still misses you. Your name is still on her lips, but she keeps them pursed to take a slow sip of her too-hot drink. She doesn't want to burn herself on the memory of you.