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There are a lot of things I ought to feel guilty for,
but being happy isn't one of them.
So why is it that after four years of hating myself
I feel bad for having the slightest bit of self-esteem?
Maybe it's because the people I used to suffer with
are still suffering.
Things aren't getting any better for them,
and there is nothing I can do to fix it.
Or maybe it's because I did nothing to earn this bliss.
All I did was move to a new city,
surround myself with new people,
and turn into a brutally honest *****.
I never meant to become so cold.
I guess I was just sick of being told
that I was too ******* passive.
I hated being passive,
being nice to people who I secretly loathed,
being the girl with the bright hair but the dull personality.
Yes, I have changed,
but I have transformed into a person that I kind of like.
So why do I feel so guilty?
in the morning
we struggle with the bed sheets that
wrap us, bind us

in the afternoon
we crawl to our desks
and burn our faces
with radiation
from our phones, from our laptops
reasoning, pleading, typing, and clicking
away the words and sentences
that could decide our fates

in the evening
the voices sharing laughter and stories are
nowhere
to be found in the dinner table
there is only the hurried clanging
of forks and knives against porcelain
we swallow several morsels of reheated leftovers
and just drown our stomachs with coffee and pills
the breath of our sighs fill the air
and bring us to suffocation

we drag our limbs
to wherever
the answers and solutions may be
with all our might,
we anchor ourselves against the world's spin

our sunken weary eyes
glance at each other from time to time
no words are spoken
but from those fleeting moments
we know the burdens that the other carries
as much as our hearts ache to
we can't help each other
because we're already too lost helping ourselves
Edited! Just noticed that I accidentally deleted an entire stanza of the poem!
 Dec 2013 drunkonthoughts
rafsan
To miss you,
It is not a choice or an option.

It is a fate that was dictated on me,
For you my love.

My affection for you is intense,
And strengthen by our love bonds.

Connected through your heavenly heart,
That trembles me all the way up to bottom.
Mountain of suicide
Filled with bliss
God of whiskey gave me a fifth
Rolling into the darkness
I'm shaking with anxiety
Bursting in pieces of flames
As the stone of the river holds me
I pass the mental tears
While phrases lust my thoughts
The nightmares of poets feed my fears
isn't it interesting how the ocean eventually convinces the rocks to turn to dust?
or that with every drag of a cigarette, it eventually turns your lungs black
i just wish you could convince me to fall in love with you
but like the rocks turning into dust or your lungs turning black
falling in love takes time
and time is all we got
 Dec 2013 drunkonthoughts
berry
this is a poem dedicated to distance.
to every time i have wanted to kiss you, but couldn't.
to every time i looked at my empty hands and thought of yours.
to every time i was in a crowded room and secretly hoped that i'd find your face.
to every happy couple we see that inadvertently mocks our inability to be near each other.
to every time i've played your laughter over and over in my head to drown out the silence.
to every time you just wanted to hear my voice, but i was busy.
to every missed call and every undelivered text and every time your internet was down.
to every miscommunicated statement and every typo.
to every time that one of us was asleep when the other needed them.
to every time you wept and i wasn't there to hold you.
to every self-destructive tendency we share.
to every pill your mother has hidden and every razor blade i have flushed.
to every worry that plagues my consciousness whenever you take long to reply.
to every night we have been together through a screen, but alone in our beds.
to every, "i miss you" and "i wish you were here".
to every broken-record apology that never makes it better.
to every makeup stain that mars the sweater you sent me so that i could
feel like i was sleeping with you (and to the fact that it doesn't smell like you anymore).
to every hour, every minute, every second of difference in the time between us.
to every dollar i don't have, and every time i wished for your chest against my back.
to every, "why are you even with me?" and "you could do better".
to every spectator and cynic that has told us we'd fail.
to every doubt of mine and to all your jealousy.
to every ounce of water in the pacific ocean.
to every ******* mile between my head and your chest (i checked, and there are 9,752).

you will not win.

- m.f.
The rain makes the world gray,
gray like the way your touch felt on my thigh.
You looked so handsome today,
with your voice as melodic as angels
and I couldn't help myself to think that although I want you to be happy,
I can't bare your happiness not involving me.
I know it's selfish,
but we're all generation me.
And you frustrate me because I can't figure you out.
You're a shifting maze,
I'm trapped in you
        and I couldn't be happier.
I think of you often and wonder how you could hate me
But demons aren't meant to be loved,
or fixed.
I constantly desire your love,
or at least a reassuring glance.
But you are white and I am black,
I wish I could say
we blend together impeccably.
But I'm just being naive.
I guess we can just blame it all on the rain.
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