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  Jan 2015 Zavid
Jessica Leigh
I've known every type of person
Who has ever roamed this Earth
Known every beaten, broken, dead girl
Known every happy, brilliant, innocent boy
I may have never seen their eyes
But I've know them, none the less

I've known smiles and laugh lines
Of an old mother looking at her son
Known the sparkle in her eyes
Know the desparation in her hugs
No, my mother was never like that
But, all the same, I've known her

I've known bruises and black eyes
Of an abused five-year-old girl
Known the hatred for her father
Known the love that is still buried deep
I was never hurt like she was
But I still feel like I've known her

I've known church bells and crosses
Of a preacher long since his calling
Known his sermons and hymns
Known his passion as he spoke to the church
No, I've never believe in God
But I've known the preacher of his word

I've known ledges and pill bottles
Of a teenage boy who can't handle it anymore
Known the willingness to jump and swallow
Known the unwillingness to do so
I've never done the same as him
But I just know that I've known him

I've known music and lyrics
Of an unknown rock band
Known their words as they wrote
Known their soul behind every piece
No, I've never seen them live
But their music says I've known them

I've known cuts and razors
Of an unaccepted middle child
Known the tears she cries at night
Known the fear of being caught
I have never known that fear
But I'm confident that I've known her

I've known every type of person
Who has ever roamed this Earth
Known all the lovers, abusers, preachers
Known all the killers, players, cutters
No, I am not like any of them
But maybe that's why I'm so lost.
Zavid Jan 2015
Gunshots and poems
is what I dream
as the press into
hearts and pages
of sad lonely
notebooks and people
that just need a
word or a wound
to feel complete
one last time

I dream of
church bells and screams
that drown each other out
as their finest moments
in wailing agony and
peaceful chimes to
let us know that
everything could
change in the
blinking of an eye

Thunderclaps and steak knifes
fill the nightmares
that I dream
creating death-filled settings
full of evil laughs and
clowns to haunt
everything we could
ever want to
ever be

I dream of
the future full
of me and you
with smiles and
giggles of tickle
fights and cheek
kisses galore and
sparkles in two peoples'
eyes of nothing but
pure happiness
Zavid Jan 2015
Eyelashes flutter
in series of opening to beautiful
eyes that can captivate
anyone in a single glimpse
because they belong to her
and who doesn't
love her and her beautiful
eyes that only look at you
keeping you perfectly still everywhere
but you heart
  Jan 2015 Zavid
Riley
To have

My head on your chest

Beneath your comforting arms

My hand on your stomach 

Moving with the rhythm

Of your breathing

The silence being pierced
By your wonderful heart beating

Is truly

The best feeling
Of pure happiness

That I will ever experience
Zavid Dec 2014
The end of a sentence
is a period.
The end of a life
is a death.
The end of a road
is a dead end.
The end of a book
is a last page.
The end of the light
is the dark.
The end of a fire
is water.
The end of time
is nothing.
The end of the truth
is a lie.
The end of a person
is a gunshot.
The end of me
is you.
The end of lunch
is an empty bowl.
The end of a poem
is a message.
The end of a hello
is a goodbye.
The end of this poem
is this.
Zavid Dec 2014
Why
I have heard
the question
Why do we fight?
I say we fight
for what we
believe in what we
understand or love
but fighting is meant
for the strong of which
I am not but I do not
stand alone so for those
who are not strong
I am asking
Why do we write?
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