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beneath the anguish of sorrow
within the resistance to hope
I let go
into the sigh of surrender
where a tenderness washes over
this wounded heart
whispers of love
emerge through its cracks
crowding the silence,
filling the emptiness
subtly piercing the dark
 Jul 28 Emaan Masood
Not even the answers
Have all the answers
I dug myself this grave
But how do I escape it?
Is it even real?
Or just a figment of my imagination?
Or is it just my fate
To be buried alive?
We are the same
So let’s bury ourselves alive together.
Like the gravediggers we are.
Written on July 28, 2020
 Jul 28 Emaan Masood
to be loved for just a moment
in another place
one made outside myself
to forget the lingering
hatred etched in my soul
to just for a moment
let the cobwebs go
i think that might be enough
whisper in my ear.
tell me the things I want to hear.
rid me of my fear,
that one day you'll no longer be here.
She drapes her beauty
over a gossamer sleeve

breathes music box melody

through the spindles of dreams

elopes with the stars

and whispers
lavish possibilities

through a cauldron of clouds

she, the whimsy,
midnight Blues fantasy

seeped in gin
drizzled over
my sins

she is madness
and meaning

commingled in
I was inspired by John Destalo's style in "Scavenger" and Patty and Gideon's homage to the Blues and the beautifully soft phrase "cauldron of clouds" in Shamamama's "Sleepless."  The phrase bewitched me.
 Jul 28 Emaan Masood
Why does it always feel like
no one's listening
when I talk?
I'm never loud enough..
Whenever I cry I'm guilty
Am I allowed to cry when another's pain doesn't compare
I stare with a dropped jaw as others tell their hardships
Am I allowed to shed tears when so many wish to lead my life
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