Everyone creates this false image of love
Like it's so simple and easy
I would love to believe that
But I can't ...
Love is putting your life last
To them put someone else's first
When you willing to lay down your life
At any given moment
You will let yourself starve
So the one you love eats
Love is never taking advantage
Of the one you loves innocence
See love is not easy
But quite difficult ...

So many people are "ready to find love"
But not the troubles that come with it
They want a love that brings
Temporary happiness to the body
I want love that brings
Joy to my heart and soul
Not a physical love
But an emotional love
Not the love you see in movies
But the love that makes you feel
Like you star in your own movie
I don't want a temporary
Let me in your bed love
But a let's wait till marriage love
Not a fictional
And not a fake love
Kinda sappy
But original , unique
That makes people jealous
Kind of love
That amazing beautiful love that ...
Lasts forever

Poem – By Obar Mark

I'M BROKEN TO BE MORE

It’s no doubt that to feel pain is mandatory;
But to feel the suffering is not only an option but also a choice;
In heartbreak, suffering and pain, remember that being broken is humility;
So, I choose to be broken in humility.

It takes a broken soil to give a crop a life;
Don’t worry nor remain in despair while going through breakings;
Instead of crying for a lighter load, just ask for a stronger back to carry the load;
So, I choose to be broken in humility.  

It takes humility to accept that your heart has been broken;
It takes ignorance to allow any man or woman to break your precious heart;
Just as it takes broken cloud to give rain and bring a new hope to huge masses;
So, I choose to be broken in humility.

In deed, broken grains give bread;
Broken bread give strength;
Likewise, God uses broken people to make great things;
So, I choose to be broken in humility.

Oh no!
I'm stuck here
behind this lovely stand.
Dare I sit here
or should I attempt
to make social interaction?
I don't know though...
It seems rather taxing
to make an effort to engage
with someone whom I know
literally nothing about,
but isn't that what
you're supposed to do?
Decisions, decisions...
It seems like such a
simple thing. The choice
seems so blatantly obvious.
True, I could use some friends,
but who is to say
they'd still be there
after my darkest of days.
That is a chance I'm not
willing to take.
The opportunity cost of my
time is too high to
make the effort to talk
to a random individual.
The phrase, "Oh well," comes to mind.
My, my, what a predicament.
Uncertainty is a corrupting
influence that plagues us all
to stop us from doing the things
we all love.
So, should I stop this or let it run
its ****** course?
I think it's safe to say
who has won.

Might I partake? I do say I shall help
myself to these delicious treats.
That is, the misfortune of others.
Alas, I cannot hold back in general
for they are addicting. I prey
on the weak for they are
the juiciest. My glands have been
salivating for far too long
and I feel that what little self-control
I have left shall be consumed
by this overwhelming desire
of feasting off others' unhappiness.
True, it is callous of myself to divulge in
such travesties that do not require
my presence, but I ask myself: why not?
It seems only fitting to devour that which brings joy.
Clasping my hands followed by a devious smile,
I shall hunt for these misfortunes, hoping to wither
someone down until they're nothing
more than an empty shell.

Stars open between
the trees in which
I’m hiding,
the river catching
their light,

ghostly reflections
of the men
I have known
wink at me from
their watery depths

I play a game,
imagining a
narrow boat
that a family
inhabit,

a small child
running its length,
folding their bed
into kitchen
space

inside, I am
panicked,
knowing that I
cannot swim and
that the forest
is closing
in

I was poking a piece of paper with a pen out of sheer boredom.
Thus, a rough sketch of a heart was born
by a simple series of ink blots with repetition.
Then I thought: why did I do that?
At first glance, it was just a random assortment
of ink spots that seemingly have no meaning,
but as it catches my eye every now and then,
I realize it has seduced every nerve in my brain.
I figuratively try to imagine what my mind
looks like, but all I see is an enveloping mist
that my subconscious has sent forth
in an attempt to end my pervasiveness;
to uncover what I deem as truth.
Although, I can tell that the more I try to understand
why my subconscious is doing this,
the thinner this metaphorical blockage becomes.

I can see a silhouette of a person, a woman to be exact.
Her feminine figure exhibiting serenity in it's rawest form,
down to even the smallest of details.
Dare I approach this woman to uncover the secrets she holds
Or should I stand here, jaw agape, as I stand in awe?
Perhaps I may do both.

Please body, grant me the courage to move.
The longer I wait, the chance of her fading increases
and frankly, I do not wish for this to occur.
I feel that every step I make closer to her,
The stiffness of this paralysis only grows exponentially.
Curse these infernal bonds, I cast off these chains,
but it appears it's too late for now,
This apparition is approaching me.

In the beginning we made small talk, but I have to say,
those itty-bitty conversations were worth it.
They manifested into an array of discussions,
portraying our various ideals and goals;
It laid down our foundation,
but what really caught my attention
was the wisdom you so blissfully displayed.
It wasn't forceful in the slightest, but
rather all natural. My infatuation grew.

A dimly lit courtyard.
Flavored tobacco up in the air.

A table amongst friends.
Their chatter all tuned out.

A shoulder to lay on.
Causation of drug induced slumber.

Upon mountains high.
Walkers of the sky.

Ocean of lights below.
Hands clasp tight.

Still night in the park.
No more second guessing.

Gliding across ice.
Cancerous sin now ended.

Sleep tight, together now.
A kiss upon the forehead.

Okay?
Okay.

The longer I continue with this addicting contemplation,
a greater feeling of soothing realization
conquers this brooding mist and I feel uplifted.
There is one thing comes to mind:
I cannot stop adoring you.

Flies buzz around the still room
like dogs chasing cars.
An old crone is heard nagging beyond the door,
"Don't you think you're leaving to one of them bars!"

Light hasn't entered the room in days;
the dark green curtains have all been closed.
The old lady began banging against the wood,
"You still need to clip my toes!"

The room reeked of cigarette smell.
A half-burnt one existed within the ash tray.
Weeping could be heard from the other side.
"Honey, open up. Don't leave me astray.."

Next to the lime-green chair where he lay,
a dried up pen could be seen leaving his hand.
One scribbled note stood out upon the lamp table.
"Can you get off your *** and fix the **** TV stand?!"

Matilda,
            I have loved you for sixty-three years, sixty of which we've been married and I wouldn't trade it for the world, but during these past couple of years, you've become heartless. You've changed and it saddens me entirely. You're not the woman I fell in love with all those years ago, but rather this ghost that preys on the misfortune of others. Maybe it was all the radiation treatment the doctors performed or perhaps the endless drugs they made you take to numb the pain, but regardless of the mental distortion you now face, I can no longer bear it. I love you, Matilda, but it breaks my heart to see you like this. I'm sorry, but this is indeed goodbye.
                                                                                                            -Henry

The soundlessness lasted for weeks
except for the one shot that ran.
Nothing living remained in that room,
ending the life of that one old man.

Déjà vu
only exists
for those
whose eyesight
has amnesia