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 Sep 2019 Shubham Solanki
Aurelia
Don't talk to yourself
When the time's not right
When there is no light
When you can no longer fight
Don't talk to yourself.

Don't talk to yourself
When you're in pain
And there's no gain
'Cause it's vain
Don't talk to yourself.

Don't talk to yourself
While cleaning your desk
Don't talk to yourself
Don't make it a burlesque

Hey, I know reader,
You must be feeling hazy
Don't talk to yourself just don't talk to yourself
'Cause they might think you're crazy...
And yes..they think I am crazy :)
If want was water,
I would be drowning, my head under completely
and my oxygen quickly depleting.
If confusion was cold,
My fingers would be numb and I wouldn't even
have a coat to ward off the freezing.
If youth was you,
It would be slipping away by the second,
And I can't get a hold to stop it.
Now,
my air is gone,
I'm shivering to the bone,
and can't keep a hold on.
But, this is only a poem:
I know I'm not suffocating, subzero, or slipping.
But I can't help but feel like the more I write,
the farther I get from reality
and the closer I get to metaphor mortality.
It's so
yellow
The walls are
all yellow
It's so
empty
And I can't
look up from the
Golden
table.

I guess I just
don't have
Anything
to say.

It's got some
yellow
Sticking my toes
between strands of
Scratchy acrylic
my mother's words
An unintentional reminder of
who I am not.

Sunlight
yellow
Containers
yellow
I DON'T HAVE
THE PATIENCE
to pick at the beaded
lint
MAKE IT ALL STOP
YELLOWING

I won't
yellow
I'll be
YELLING
screaming
IT'S ALL
yellow.
Copyright 10/9/15 by B. E. McComb
Death doesn't discriminate
It is not a black and white matter
It isn't brown or yellow either
Some die slow and others faster.
Young and old, rich and poor
You don't know when
He'll come knocking on your door.
But you do know He will.
And He won't stop until
He has His fill.
So, if Death is my enemy
And He is also yours
It only makes sense
To join forces in this war
Because the enemy of my enemy
should also be my friend
So we should make an alliance
and put petty fighting to an end.
If Death doesn't discriminate, neither should we
'Cause that will only lead to our defeat.
The title comes from a line in Hamilton's "Wait for it".
 Jun 2018 Shubham Solanki
mk
i ran and i ran and i ran
three countries away
three continents over
i ran so that i didn't have to wake up
and take a shower in the same shower
get dressed in the same clothes
smell that same **** perfume
all laced with memories of you
i ran so far that i managed to forget who i was
managed to forget that it wasn't just my addiction to pain that kept us together
it was all those memories and laughs
and suddenly the taste of your lips
doesn't seem too distant when i still see your deodorant on my shelf
when i see our ticket stubs on my wall
when i have the wrapper from the chewing gum i chewed before kissing you stuck to my cork board like a ticking time bomb
i ran so far that i forgot what it felt like to love you and suddenly i'm back in my own skin begging you to love me again
but you're full of anger
and you're full of hate
i'm full of fear
and i'm scared of fate
my purse is still the same one you held for me
my neck is still the same one you kissed
my wrist smells of the perfume i put on before our first date
there are seventeen boxes of hershey's drops on my bookshelf
each one shared or gifted by you
the flowers from my garden
you picked
are crumbled
but fresh, scattered on my bed
i ran three countries away
i ran three continents over
to escape from a love
that i don't even want to get over
maybe it's best to never return home at all
 Jun 2018 Shubham Solanki
Alex B
Someone stole my color
And threw it to the wind
Scattered like ashes
I don’t know if I’ll ever find it

Someone stole my color
From the face I know so well
I saw it in the cotton candy clouds
And the teal ocean swell

Someone stole my color
I guess that’s where it went
The world looks so much brighter
Like something heaven-sent

Someone stole my color
And that’s what no one knows
Depression isn’t black
It’s the color of a rose

It’s the light orange in a sunset
And the yellow of a peach
Light blue, my favorite color
So simply out of reach

Purple like my favorite eyeshadow
No, lavender, I’d guess you’d say
And my favorite music artist
Although he has passed away

Someone stole my color
Now everything’s too bright
I suppose sometimes darkness
Isn’t the opposite of light

Someone stole my color
So I’ll wear grey and black
As if in mourning
Until I get it back
 Jun 2018 Shubham Solanki
Meera
Do they think I am ugly?
Do they feel I am dumb?
Am I hopeless? Am I stupid?
Am I worthless? Am I ****?

Do they even like me?
Or are they just being nice
Questions like these
Went daily through my mind

I acted like I ain’t afraid of anything
Like I am just being myself
Though inside I felt miserable
Like a cobweb on a shelf

On this very face of mine
I have put masks for years
Hiding all my insecurities
Hiding all my fears

I pretended to be
Someone I am not
A girl who looks pretty
A girl they think is hot

I kept putting on these masks
Till they became a part of me
As slowly and gradually
They grew to reality

But lately I realized
I was losing my soul
Living in a fake world
Growing up a hole

I didn’t have any idea
Who I actually was
When I came to terms with that
The masks began to fall

And as the masks fell one by one
There was a different girl underneath
A girl who could face her demons
And believe in herself

This was a journey with many hills
And sometimes it was ok to be in a valley
A mask may help to’ fake it ‘til you make it’
Until you start living your own poetry
After 6 months, 1k words and almost 100 followers, HePo feels like home how
 Jun 2018 Shubham Solanki
imai
LOVE
could be a question of
who
when
how
but never
‘why?’

LOVE
could be a matter of
falling unexpectedly
under the sweetly cool
november sky

LOVE
could sometimes be
a gradual burn
or high paced recklesness
laced with unmasked desperation
and a wordless goodbye

LOVE
could have been
you and I

but LOVE
I never would have thought
be fleeting and discreet-
surprisingly gone
the moment we meet

LOVE
as I now know it to be
is an erratic creature
neither bitter nor sweet

LOVE
is a moment
I would never forget-
his eyes aflame under
the painted sunset

LOVE
was him
and all the things we
left unsaid

LOVE
is now
nothing but a far memory-
that of a star that once burned the brightest but
now is
dead.
I saw him yesterday, for the first time in a while.
I was expecting butterflies and all the trouble that accompanied a girl in love, but I was greeted with none of those.
I felt calm. It seems that I have moved on.
I've written this poem a long time ago, but it is only now that I truly relate to it.
Your body is not the forgiveness lost men need to find themselves.
What a wicked way to treat the girl
who loves you
As if you could see the light
to bathe your secrets
In the space between her thighs-
that you could find forgiveness in between the notches of her spine.
She tastes of honey suckle and smells like summer rain
but she'll never be able to coat the ash clinging to your throat.
Or wash away the ache that's settled into your bones-
She's like sweet torture
something you can touch but never truly keep-
You have spent far too long in the darkness to do anything but try and steal her light.
So I beg of you
-let her go-
Because when she finally figures out you used her as convenient, as easy, as a way to dull the pain-
she'll have to find her own forgiveness and have no time for yours.

- She let you into her heart into her body and she will spend a very long time trying to forgive herself for what you broke.
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