I heard our song last night
it was your whispers in the rain
just one more time you held my hand
and you told me one last time, you loved
just me, and me only, our song held my heart
and made me cry for your love, that last night was
amazing, I knew I was lost, and I was found, when we
made love you fulfilled my every whim, when you were my man.
You didn't want to break my heart, you told me over and over
but I drifted and I didn't realize you were the world to me
you gave my heart a break, when i walked out of our
life, there were things we did not discuss, the heart
breaks, and singing of my life, with your words
that were whispers in the wind, I heard your
love and your touch in the day of our
hearts, Singing my soul so raw, so
new and being blue, looking for
love, with promises from
you ..

"listening for your whispers in the rain."*

Debbie Brooks 2014

///

It has rounded
when you can't see the end of the road
you seem those eyes have a limit
but you see the sky that moves beyond the limit

It has looped
when you loved her first since you have been missing over the life
you are growing older
but you can't see the end that is beyond the death

It has dreamed again
when autumn is glowing with shrubs of white flowers
you have looped within your dreams
dreams are running with drifted white clouds, its gravity beyond the imagination

It grew love
when you told me a simple word, its feeling is more than the love
now the toys of early day's have broken
but still the broken gadgets have glittered beyond the lights of hope

///
@ Musfiq us shaleheen

you will break the dawn
like eggshells,
cracked like my promise
and I will take the needle,
carefully knit your battle wounds together
with stories from inside
candles flamed kisses.
I will plaid metaphor and memory together
until you are the rag-doll
someone promised to fix.

When my mother said goodbye,
she said it was getting hard to hug me,
on fear that my bones will catch her skin
and tear her open.

She says when she hears my typewriter,
it resembles my joints clicking,
when I break the spine of a book,
it simulates my future,
how it makes her feel.

I don't blame her for having nightmares
about "carbocide, nutritional cleansing"

I have stared in mirrors and felt
light avoiding my faults,
for my illness is invisible

and I am fading.

I don't cry about it now.

but when he held me at the waist
I felt paper cuts carve his hands,
saw the broken glass on each side
of my "you look like a girl" hips
slice him open.

He said they looked like wings,
but where are the angels
when I slump over
bathroom floors,
with bent knees and
shattered promises?

we are the collision of two stars,
light and dark, the light bulbs
hanging like broken poems,
from your ceiling.

So much of life
Is wasted
Nine to Five

Exhaustion cripples
Down time, anxiety
Controls the next

Worry about bills
The looming certainty
And lingering doubt

Up at early
The pattern
Hardly broken

A vacation spent
Away; life's return
Still follows how

The training of
Nine to five
Work and life

But coffee copes
When the restless
Rise