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 Mar 2014 Fatima Zahid
LONDIN
He told me his favorite part of summer was my hair dancing circles on his face.
He loved to gather all three feet of my locks in his hand and raise it up to toast the wind; each strand ricocheting off invisible corners of the air.
He never minded getting his fingers caught in tangles.
Twice I let him cut the elastic binding of my hair tie
just to see it all fall down my body.

I stood calm and sober starring into an unfamiliar bathroom mirror as I made his favorite part of summer fall into piles around my feet.
I reached up into the top of the closet
and took out a pair of blue *******
and showed them to her and
asked "are these yours?"
and she looked and said,
"no, those belong to a dog."
she left after that and I haven't seen
her since. she's not at her place.
I keep going there, leaving notes stuck
into the door. I go back and the notes
are still there. I take the Maltese cross
cut it down from my car mirror, tie it
to her doorknob with a shoelace, leave
a book of poems.
when I go back the next night everything
is still there.
I keep searching the streets for that
blood-wine battleship she drives
with a weak battery, and the doors
hanging from broken hinges.
I drive around the streets
an inch away from weeping,
ashamed of my sentimentality and
possible love.
a confused old man driving in the rain
wondering where the good luck
went.
If you love me let me go,
otherwise you will never know
if it really matters at all
or if soon apart we'll fall.
If we fall we're sure to break,
so let it go for your own sake.
you played me too much
i'm worn and done with this game
sore from being dropped so much
and trying to be tamed

you used me and threw me out
like nothing more than trash
it's obvious to you i'm disgusting
like a highly contagious rash

a porcelain doll tossed around
now all that's here is broken glass
I'm useless and damaged
not a person not even half
"It's a shame,"
A mother  says to her daughter,
"that such pretty girls think such dark things."

But there it is --
The very reason why us girls think thoughts so dark:
There is beauty in death.

As soon as we're gone,
People suddenly want us.
Celebrities will pray for the poor young lost soul,
We'll suddenly be beautiful in everyone's eyes --
And everyone will want to be our friend.

Suddenly those bullies want forgiveness,
And your out-of-your-league crush likes you back.

You'll never age -- a constant beauty.
You'll be pure -- negativity buried with your body.
You'll be smart -- the one "with the bright future."

Suddenly we're wanted,
Missed
Mourned
Loved
We've gotten all we've been searching for!
But what good does it do us,
if we'll never feel the suns warmth again?
Never again to catch loose snowflakes,
Or smell the spring dafodils?

If you can bring yourself to never laugh again,
To never kiss again,
To never dream again,
Then it's on you.
But don't tell me you'll go without regret:

Maybe you'd still be alive if someone told you sooner?
Maybe we should stop praising those who take their lives?

~C E Smith
i could paint a hundred sunsets
and the sum of them would not equal a fraction of how glorious yours are.
i could draw a thousand seas
and the most beautiful of them would not mirror Your majesty.
i could sing a million songs
and Your voice would be sweeter than any of them.
i could love You with my heart, mind, and soul
and i wouldn't love You as much as You love me.
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