when I was a little girl
my mother always said
"a boy is only mean when he likes you"

after all these years
maybe that is why
I cut and burn and bruise

I am loving myself
the only way I know how
in the way my mother taught

She's like broken glass,
Shattered all across the living room rug,
And a smell of whiskey on her edges,
And stained on the floor.
She's in pieces and she can't really explain who's fault it is
Or whose broken her this time.
She'll wait for the next person to try to heal her,
Take the glue to her pieces and place something wrong and she'll lash out.
Her body was made of glass,
You could see right through her.
Every lie was followed by another drink,
Another shot,
Another sip
She'd continue to fill her cup until she overflowed and broke even more
But she'll try to mend her heart and body to no avail.
She'll never let them know who hurt her.
Because she was the one
Who trusted
Too much

"Don't go far off, not even for a single day."
Memory of your utterance that sweet day.
You offered to be mine in your own way.
In this life full of green and things grey.
Memorized what you promised me that day.
Under shady tree, as if in a romantic play.
Woeful I am now, as I've lost the way.
Now heartbroken in sorrow I shall pay.
© Perveiz Ali

He curses, angered as hell,
She shrugs, ready to swell,
But then pretend to melt,
And put on a ****** of well,
A technique she so manages to pelt,
But he saw beyond this belt,
Her eyes dances with the usual rhythm of hurt,
But with her, love meant no worries
For there's no ornament for beauty like happiness,
Hers was this unimpeachable dirt,
A prideful youth, that's only strong to hurt,
But she knew he might tear under distress,
Drink til ****** to depress himself,
Then pull the plug to express himself,
But she love him under all those stress,
To his heart she had forcibly pressed,
Just enough to have it eventually seize,
Still he had kept to this filthy source,
But she cast out all excusable remorse
For her, there's no love without forgiveness
To err was human; to forgive..... That's Divine
Those who dream by light were mindful of things
That escape those who dreamed at night
For her, it was beyond this very light,
It couldn't be bittersweet without the fights,
She had loved him with a love more than nights,
Till it became sleepless nights and daily fights.

That was us,
Till we felt apart,
Our arms waving and our lives apart,
Distance befriended us,
Miles stretched between us and the joy of our hearts,
Hate came between me and the deed of my hands,
Then again it strike me hard upon the head,
That I vowed till death do us part,
But it wasn't death that did us part,
It was me, my choices that
Made everything stinks from the start
I played our hearts both ways,
I thoughtfully turned away,
Left you for those perilous games,
But your heart never went astray
It became broken, till betrayed,
Forgive me
For not knowing my wants,
For being so angry with you,
Let us rewrite this story,
I now know my wants,
That's to love and be loved solely by you
Come, live in my heart and pay no rent
Take your rightful place, you always meant
In truth, I need you because I love you
You made me want to change, likely repent
You never once mind the games I play
You handled them without delay
Casting each out with a gentle sway,
Till you broke my walls apart
And hit me softly upon the heart,
Till I wish we were never apart.....

He follows
my topography
like a disciple
tracing contour lines
seeking
heaven within
he is the rapture
his devoted hands
take me there.

A poem isn't effort.

Emotions aren't squeezed out,
but bleed out
into their own being.

The poet
a mere catalyst
for their expression,
letting go of continuous
repression.

Bleeding constructively.