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Nov 2018 · 530
Let me tell you a secret
Javaria Waseem Nov 2018
Let me tell you a secret, I hope you keep it to yourself
I try not to show it so often but I guess I am depressed
Oh no, I’m sorry I didn’t mean it unload my burden on you
I was just having this feeling and I didn’t know what to do

You see at first I thought it was just a bad day
That I’d stay in and watch some movies and be okay
But then it became a bad week, and then a bad month
And slowly I lost the count of the days, I felt worthless

I was doing everything that I did as usual but
the time slowed down and the pictures started to lose colors
At first I thought it was just me
but then the whole world started to seem blur

The most difficult task became getting out of bed every day
So I started staying in, sleeping or just lying down
thinking it was just a day off, a much needed break
but little did I know it would gradually become my escape

I tried “reaching out” to the people around me
who posted on social media that they can help and ****
but I didn’t want to just load it all on someone
so I tried to be subtle, indirectly leaving some hints.

People thought it was for the trend, I was being cool
They handed me more bricks to build a stronger wall
From being away from God to being delusional
I heard it all.

I didn’t realize when I began losing people
Maybe it was the wall that kept them out or
maybe they just didn’t want to have someone like me around
someone who they’d talk about later of course.

I see I’ve been speaking since some time now
And you look tired and bored of me
Wait, let me tell you a joke or two
anything you want, please just don’t leave.

I’m stupid?
Yes! Of course.
I’m so stupid that I’d try to **** myself
by jumping from the ground floor.

Did that make you laugh? Oh I’m glad!
I hope you didn’t notice how badly I wanted to say
top floor instead of ground floor
because that would have only scared you away.

So I was telling you about how people left me alone
They didn't understand my isolation and coldness were just
attempts to find someone to hold onto during the storm
but instead I became invisible just like this poem

I couldn’t blame them though, I never would
You can’t force people to be there for you
No matter how much you want to
No matter how much they should.

I understood them despite all the dark clouds around me
I could see their fears, their thoughts, their priorities
Everyone had a right to have someone better
But they were just afraid to end up on the letter

They didn't realize how they weren't supposed to cure me
They just had to be kinder and show some empathy
But that's alright, sometimes they need it themselves too
Maybe that's why I try to be always there because I've walked in those shoes.

Instead of filling our hearts with hatred and disgust
We should look around, we all are humans
We should understand each others' pain, make them feel okay
We should try to make sure that their bad days are just bad days.

Life's too short to regret when it's too late
You can't spend it living in a state of what ifs
What if I had just called her and asked her how she was?
What if I had just stayed there when she tried to cut everyone off?

Oh, is it time for you to go?
I guess I should too.
Thank you for listening to me
I hope this stays between me and you.
Javaria Waseem May 2017
For all those men who think they can understand how it feels to be a girl,
You can’t.

You can’t understand how it feels to open your eyes in the world
With everyone looking down on you and your mother
Because they were expecting a boy and not a girl.
You can’t understand how it feels to be raised up differently than boys
Because boys will be boys
And girls, girls will always have to compromise and sacrifice
For every man to enter their lives.
You can’t understand how it feels to see boys running around, chasing their dreams
While girls are stuck with barbie dolls and fairness creams
And how they are trained to sit and stand and talk and eat
And oh, my God, girls keep your voices down
The society should not even hear you breathe.

You can’t understand how it feels when a girl is growing up
While she is considered as a toy by men around her
For all the ****** frustration
Did I say something wrong? I meant “for all the love and affection”
When he comes up and says
Oh, little one, don’t be scared, I am your uncle
And we are going to play a little game
It’s called you keeping your mouth shut and not calling it a ****.
You can’t understand how it feels to have a pair of eyes on you all the time
Whether you’re in your home or out in the streets.
There are men all around, staring you, tracing your body
As if it is their responsibility to check out every girl entirely
From head to toe, whether she’s in a burqa or a pair of jeans.
You can’t understand how it feels to carry the weight of all the honor
On tiny shoulders, which are supposed to be carrying school bags
Honor of your family, your community, the society
Even protecting the honor of men with fragile masculinity
Wrapping it all in duppatas longer than their *****
While hiding your own identity behind the tags that you’re given.
You don’t know how it feels to live a life designed by men
Making every single move based on someone’s decisions
Like a lion in a circus performing tricks to please an audience.
You can’t understand how it feels to listen to all the filthy jokes they crack
About girls getting better grades or washing dishes or driving in the fast lane
No matter what a girl does, no matter how much she gets successful
At the end of the day, it is all a joke on the dinner table.
“Go bring another gol roti, beghum”
You can’t understand how it feels to carry another life inside your body for nine months
Enduring all the pain and cramps and still doing all the work
While all you hear is how it is a woman’s job to give birth
And oh, to make sure that it is a baby boy
As if a woman has the choice to choose the gender.
You can’t understand how it feels when after all the struggle they tell you it’s a baby girl
Your heart fills up with joy and sinks down in your stomach
When you think about the fate that awaits her.
And you hold her close to your chest, trying your best to protect her
From all the people looking down on you and your daughter
For being a girl.


So, you can’t. You can’t understand how it feels to be a girl.
Because if you did, you would have wished
For it all to be just words.
Apr 2017 · 817
Almost.
Javaria Waseem Apr 2017
This is the last poem I'll ever write as a 19 year old
I don't know if I should summarize the years I have spent
Or talk about the future and what lies ahead.
It's not easy to write anymore.
Words, they just keep slipping
like the string of a helium balloon
that I always jumped to hold, as a kid
but it would always fly away
just after touching the tips of my fingers
making me realize that I was almost there.
Almost.
Almost but never really there.
And I'd look at the balloon flying away
slowly turning into a dot
before forever being a part of the sky
And I'd wonder. I'd always wonder if I could just
let go of my strings one day
and fly away....
Would I be able to escape this place?
Would I be able to reunite with the balloon someday?
But little did I know that
letting go wasn't so easy.
It was much more than opening your fingers
and letting it fly away with the wind.
The strings which held me down were
wrapped around my finger tightly
you know, like we used to tie a rubber band
around our fingers just to stop the blood
from flowing in our veins and making our skin red.
It was just like that.
And letting the strings go meant
letting them cut through my skin
and leave marks
as a reminder that I once held onto something
or someone
too strongly between my fingers (and in my heart).

So I sit here now as I remember it all in my head
trying to decide what to share with my pen.
Not sure if this time would matter or not
as I whisper under my breath,
"Almost there, almost"
Mar 2017 · 775
Dead or Alive?
Javaria Waseem Mar 2017
Bloodshed
Destruction
Cries
Terrorism
Changed her life
Darkness all around
All alone
She asked herself
"Am i dead or alive?"
Mar 2017 · 1.1k
People of Karachi
Javaria Waseem Mar 2017
Sound of a gun
Echoed deep
While the whole city
Was fast asleep
Screams and cries
And more firing
People injured
While tons of dying
A war for peace
With an unknown rival
Destroying so many families
And leaving them so critical
Why were they killed?
What was there crime?
They were just innocent people
Busy in their lives
Having fear in their hearts
They are still ready to face
Ready to give their life
If it takes to end this blaze
I just pray
That someone hear the pleas
Of the brave survivors
Living in Karachi
Feb 2017 · 820
Rule 1
Javaria Waseem Feb 2017
O you Human, ask yourself,
What does this world mean to you?
Is it a garden or a dessert?
Is it hope or despair?
Is it love or hatred?

Remember, your world is
your own reflection.
How we see God is a direct reflection of how we see ourselves. If God brings to mind mostly fear and blame, it means there is too much fear and blame welled inside us. If we see God as full of love and compassion, so are we.
Nov 2016 · 911
You still pretend
Javaria Waseem Nov 2016
You walk by me everyday yet you still pretend
that I cannot see through the holes which are drilled
in the walls you have erected around yourself.

You walk by me everyday yet you still pretend
that I cannot feel you struggling to keep yourself away
from all the memories for which you (and I) fell.

You walk by me everyday yet you still pretend
that I cannot hear your heart beating like a drum
because you're still in love and you can't tell.

You walk by me everyday yet you still pretend
that I cannot realize the pain that you're in
when you try to hard to forget my existence.
Nov 2016 · 999
broken kids, dirty scars
Javaria Waseem Nov 2016
we are the kids who grew up in old wine bottles
keeping ourselves out in the open
and calling the light breeze,
entering through the rim,  
our secret freedom

we are the kids who grew up during the war times
keeping ourselves hidden under beds
and reciting all the prayers
which we had learned
while listening to the guns fire

we are the kids who grew up holding ourselves tightly
making sure our masks don't fall off
and we don't break apart
like we always have been
(like we truly are)
Sep 2016 · 715
losing words
Javaria Waseem Sep 2016
I read all this poetry and it haunts me
Like an old lover or a dead friend
I pretend that I don't know the words
While they **** me inside
Because deep down I know
I have lost them
And they cannot be mine.
Javaria Waseem Aug 2016
tap-tap, tap-tap, tap-tap, tap-tap
Shhhhhhhhhhh
drop your pen and drink your inks
stop your words from polluting
the clean slate minds of the youth
let them memorize the ancient rules
This world can't read what you're writing
Arrange a funeral and bury your thinking
Make it quick and be silent
Don't let them know that you're different
You can write? Good for you.
Now go and hide, or else they'll come here too.
tap-tap, tap-tap, tap-tap, tap-tap
Shhhhhhhhhhh
How dare you write
against the tides
about your views
about the lies
about the news
and prostitutes
and ****** abuse?
This world is cruel,
don't overthrow
the rule of men
who can only write
tap-tap* about women rights,
tap-tap and the social issues,
tap-tap and the silent taboos,
tap-tap  and the rich and the poor,
tap-tap and about the schools
which are producing  
brain-washed fools.
tap-tap, tap-tap, tap-tap, tap-tap
Shhhhhhhhhhh
Don't you know? They heard you too
Run for your life, they're chasing you
To erase your words
and silence your voice
To suffocate you
In your own mind
tap-tap, tap-tap
You're still standing here, asking me why?*
Well, you're a threat
to what they possess
the power above all
the power to play god
to decide how we'll live
and where and why
and decide how we are going die.
You're still too young, you haven't seen
How they hide behind the walls
of their own fragile masculinity
and show their strength to scare you away
Ironic how it reflects their own image.
tap-tap, tap-tap, tap-tap, tap-tap
Shhhhhhhhhhh
Now here they are, calling you names
with ***** meanings that they have made
They're pulling you down,
dragging you around,
making sure you'll never make a sound.
tap-tap, tap-tap, tap-tap, tap-tap,tap-tap, tap-tap, tap-tap, tap-tap
Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
I know
I know
Oh, I know
How hard it is
to suffer all this
a punishment
of their own ****** sins
It makes me wonder
if they even will
punish the angels
on the last day
for writing
down
their *****
*****
mistakes.
If someone has ever told you not to write, know that now is your time to write.
Jul 2016 · 494
make me new words
Javaria Waseem Jul 2016
For the first time in my life, I wanted to learn every language of this world in search of words to explain exactly what you are to me.
Jun 2016 · 986
Fusion
Javaria Waseem Jun 2016
There is a cup of wine in this barren dessert
But this world prohibits me to take a sip
I am a thirsty man, it gives me pleasure
But in the state of oblivion, I have sinned.

One sip of wine is what draws the line
One sip of wine is what makes this world decide
whether I am a pious person, sliding down the shiny pearls
or a drunken lover, whirling in circles.

There is no name for the union of fire and water
They just create tales about the two poor lovers
And when they unite, evaporation is only witnessed
Instead of the state in which they both enter.

Such is the working of this wonderful Earth
Where seeing is believing, and believing creates Trust
Whatever is veiled, does not exists
Such is love, a long lost art
And this world is lacking artists.
Javaria Waseem May 2016
God created you in the darkest of the times
along the suns and the stars,
He created you as a guiding light.
So when I asked God to prove His love to me
He made me see your face
which no one else could see.
May 2016 · 520
Time is running
Javaria Waseem May 2016
What is time?
Ticking of the clock,
Movement of the hands,
A game of numbers
Or maybe nothing at all.
What is time?
God of life and death
It keeps you running
It counts your every breath.
Apr 2016 · 459
lost somewhere
Javaria Waseem Apr 2016
I walk down the street tonight
The city does not sleep anymore
I can see tall buildings still alive
Nothing seems the same anymore
These streets are empty yet filled with new faces
Hearts are cold yet burning to ashes
I am walking down the street
I don't know anymore
My city is lost or maybe
I am, God knows.
Apr 2016 · 431
Untitled
Javaria Waseem Apr 2016
Painting, for me, is like making love. I paint when I am frustrated. I paint with a chaotic mind. It leaves me tired but at the end of the day, I feel satisfied.
Apr 2016 · 434
art gallery
Javaria Waseem Apr 2016
Let's play with paints tonight
He'll paint the skies,
scenes breath-taking
while I'll paint the lies
(and both will make some beautiful paintings)
Apr 2016 · 593
directionless journey
Javaria Waseem Apr 2016
i found myself walking towards you blindly
there was no end, there was no start
just you and my stupid heart.
Apr 2016 · 1.5k
imagine once...
Javaria Waseem Apr 2016
Life is short. That is what they all say. We all are going to die, someday. It’s all true. It’s all okay. Imagine that stranger girl you meet every day in the bus stops coming one day. Imagine the guard you see every day on the gate stop being there one day. Imagine the class’s loser disappears without anyone knowing. Imagine your cranky neighbour stops coming out in the street one day. Imagine the people around you start disappearing one by one. Imagine you lose someone close to you all of a sudden. Imagine you are left alone with no friend, no stranger, and no loved one to give you a shoulder. Imagine. Just imagine once.
Now imagine again. Imagine smiling at that stranger girl you meet every day and making her smile back before she dies. Imagine thanking the guard you see every day on the gate before he dies. Imagine helping the class’s loser before he disappears forever. Imagine not shouting back and forgiving the cranky neighbour on the street before he leaves everyone. Imagine telling a close one that you love them before you lose them all of a sudden. Imagine you are left alone but with memories, peace, and satisfaction of doing the dead good in their life.
We tribute the dead, we cry for them, we remember them, and we love them but we never seem to care about the living. We never make them feel that we need them until one day we lose them.
Imagine. Imagine again. Imagine one day you die. Imagine if you had not been nice to anyone who would show up on your funeral? Who would shed a tear and cry? Imagine how would you feel leaving someone with harsh memories and words that cannot be taken back? Imagine will your soul be at peace knowing all those people you have hurt? Imagine will you wish for another chance at life?
You have a life, right now. And so does the people around you. Imagine before someone dies.
Apr 2016 · 1.1k
who am i?
Javaria Waseem Apr 2016
i am not a person
i am not a thing
i am a path, a way of living
i am a set of rules to follow, a religion to believe
i am a world changing idea, a beautiful dream
i am a genre of another dimension,
a painting with another meaning
i am not a person
i am not a thing
Apr 2016 · 437
traffic lights
Javaria Waseem Apr 2016
the red light
was more
of an invitation
than a warning
Javaria Waseem Apr 2016
Does it make you look better in the mirror?
Or gives you a peaceful sleep at night?
Do you taste power and glory on your tongue?
Or does it add up to the mountain of your pride?
Does it make you feel powerful?
Or wins you the treasure of the world?
Do you achieve the freedom to do everything?
Or does it make you indestructible?
I am trying to understand how it feels to be a man
I am trying to understand how this is supposed to be
Are men something superior than the humans?
Or are they the humans only?
Jan 2016 · 958
We were just born yesterday
Javaria Waseem Jan 2016
the death angel is knocking
on our doors tonight
please lock them all away
cause mama we were just born yesterday

we were born in those class rooms
and jokes and those smiles
we were born between those two years
God knows we had to fly
we shared memories,
filled with laughter and cries
we were born together on the same day
we were narcotic nine

the death angel is knocking
on our doors tonight
please lock them all away
cause mama we were just born yesterday

we lived in those moments
we lived like a new born child
who knew the world was harsh
who knew it was the last time
God know, I swear He knows
we were meant to shine.

the death angel is knocking
on our doors tonight
please lock them all away
cause mama we were just born yesterday

we were a family, born and raised together
we were a family, bonded by the time
oh God, oh God, please listen to our prayers
oh God, oh God, please listen to our cries

the death angel is knocking
on our doors tonight
please hide us away,
please bring back the time
we were meant to stay
together till we'd die
cause mama we were just born yesterday
cause mama we were just born yesterday
Dedicated to you Filzay. You'll always be missed, you beautiful soul.
Dec 2015 · 564
one night stand
Javaria Waseem Dec 2015
i remember there was a thunderstorm that night
those flickering candles and the scent of the rain
something more intense was happening inside
on that old couch in the backyard studio
with paint on your hands you were painting me right
eyes closed, lips locked, i could feel each stroke
of your scrappy fingertips on my thighs
the sky roared furiously and so did you
waking up the demons that had long died
i wanted more; both you and the storm
i wanted just some more time
Nov 2015 · 654
I fell in love
Javaria Waseem Nov 2015
I have seen people fall in love and die in love
they look beautiful, they look satisfied
even when in pain, they look at you with smiles
I never understood the mystery behind
until I fell in love, (yes I did once in my life)

I fell in love when I wrote my first words
I fell in love when they formed into a rhyme
I fell in love when I read it again
God, I swear I never fell more in love
than I did when I began to write.
Nov 2015 · 545
bandages
Javaria Waseem Nov 2015
like the skin grows back to heal the wound,
we humans like to stay together to fix each other.
Oct 2015 · 627
i am (dis)able
Javaria Waseem Oct 2015
they look at me and their eyes change
their smiles change, their lines change
they look at me and say "poor him"
i don't know why they can't ignore it
i have a defect, it's not my fault
they look at me as if i am wrong
but it's okay, it's alright
they look at me and i just smile
i may be disable but i am strong
physical hurdles cannot stop me anymore
i am blessed, i have a fire
no one can extinguish it
it is burning inside
they look at me and get surprised
they look at me and get inspired
for i am disabled but i still survive
Oct 2015 · 555
prayer of a writer
Javaria Waseem Oct 2015
we all pray but in different ways
some kneel on a prayer mat
some find their way in church
but i
just sit down on my desk
and say my prayer
dipped in ink
i pray through words
i smile and cry
i find God in a mysterious way.
Javaria Waseem Oct 2015
i read a poem that he wrote a few days back
and i realized how no one understood his words
i wanted to tell him that i still remembered his scars
i wanted to tell him that i knew whom he wrote it for

with every rhyme that he had knitted,
with every full stop that he had added
i knew exactly what he wanted to share
i knew exactly what he wanted hid in layers.

his poem was nothing but a cluster of words
that felt like a secret message to me.
his poem was nothing but a confession at 2 am
that felt like a desperate and helpless plea.
Oct 2015 · 1.0k
my fears are dead (not)
Javaria Waseem Oct 2015
he tells me to **** my fears
i try, i try my best to **** them
i lean over them in the darkness of the night
thinking to stab them
with the sharpest of the knives
i hold it tightly in my hand
i expect them to put up a fight
but they don't, they do nothing at all
and i realize that i cannot **** them
i cannot **** something that has been
a part of me since the beginning
so i pull up the trunk from under the bed
and lock them away and tell them to be quite.

he tells me again to **** all my fears
i tell him they are dead, yes i lie
he buys it easily and i secretly smile

i hate my fears yet they feel like the only thing
that is truly mine.
Oct 2015 · 596
if you ever see me again
Javaria Waseem Oct 2015
if you ever see me again, in some market or a street
don't try to come near, i might have already moved on
i might be having a good day, i might be more happy.

if you ever see me again, in some mall or a shop
don't try to talk to me, i might not respond to your hello
i might not acknowledge your presence, i might not even look at you

if you ever see me again, in some restaurant or a cafe
don't try to look at me twice, i might be with someone else
i might be in love more than before, i might not even remember you well.

if you ever see me again
just smile and move on
like you always did.
Oct 2015 · 409
hiding our dirt
Javaria Waseem Oct 2015
let's stand with our feet in dung
and blame the bottles and pills
for being the root of evil in this world.
Oct 2015 · 491
open up
Javaria Waseem Oct 2015
the tragedy is
that
everything naked is called ugly
and everything covered
is called beauty
Oct 2015 · 622
i wanted my mama to speak
Javaria Waseem Oct 2015
"i pray that you always stay happy"
my mama used to say every night
whenever i would jump in my bed
before kissing her goodnight.
"mama will i always be happy and never sad?"
"yes my love, i have told God that."
------
i sometimes wonder why mama never told me
the harsh realities of this world instead of
filling my head with all those sweet dreams.
------
"i pray that you always stay happy"
i said to my child while putting her to sleep
she kissed me good night and clutched her teddy
"mama will i always be happy and never sad?"

i look at her, her innocent face
wondering that is how my mama would have seen me

i smile and brush her hair off her eyes
"no my love, you will not always be happy
you will have to face a lot in life
you'll have to laugh but also cry
but i have told God that
i have told Him to make my baby strong
so she can face everything alone"
Sep 2015 · 391
truth of the world
Javaria Waseem Sep 2015
you need to be naked yourself
to see the world
without all the veils
even though it will still be
ugly the same way
but at least it will be
what is really is.
Sep 2015 · 559
i am sorry but i tried
Javaria Waseem Sep 2015
last night, i lost myself in the darkest of the places
in my mind which even my demons avoid
i stepped in the alley and couldn't find my way back
i ruined everything, turned it all into a wreck
you tried to help me but i pulled you instead
i am sorry my love, i didn't mean to hurt
but i had no control, it just happened.
look at me once and you'll see
i am a ticking bomb, you deserve better than me
this is my place, the dark hole in nowhere
i can't let you live here along forever
i am selfish and i don't want you to leave
but you can't stay here, understand it please
run away, run away before i drag you back
run away and forget this awful place
Sep 2015 · 640
the future as i see it
Javaria Waseem Sep 2015
when i think about my future
all i see
is an old women with white hair
and crumbled skin
sitting near the fire
with a typewriter and a cup of tea
and dogs of every kind
sleeping around her
as she writes her life down
for the last time.
Sep 2015 · 463
the holy ritual
Javaria Waseem Sep 2015
i sat there in the hot bath tub
looking carefully
at the bubbles rising up
around my legs and my chest
the water touched my skin
scrapping off what was left;
all that pain and sorrows and hurt.
i took a deep breath and loosen myself
relaxing every muscle
untangling every thought
drowning all the words.


sitting there in the hot bath tub
i closed my eyes
forgetting it all;
the water, the bubbles
the pain, the love.

sitting there in the hot bath tub
i washed you off
along all the dust.
Sep 2015 · 701
220 Rupees
Javaria Waseem Sep 2015
today in the market of the brutal and tyrant
where people decide to play God
a life was lost to a hospital fees
humanity died
a father cried
it was just a matter of
two hundred and twenty rupees.
Rest in peace little kid. I don't have words to describe how horrible I feel as a human being today.
Sep 2015 · 548
the generation gap
Javaria Waseem Sep 2015
sitting in front of the television set
watching an explicit movie and
smoking the seventh cigarette
you shout at your little kid
to shut up and behave properly
the bell rings
"tell daddy is not home
daddy is somewhere out
and he also left his phone"
the kids lies
you smile
now go to your bed it's getting late
you shout again switching the channels
the kids tries to resist
instead he gets badly hit
"relax he is still a child, how else will he learn?"
with that you get back to the television.


years later
you sit here alone
wondering where did
you go wrong.
Sep 2015 · 392
i am okay
Javaria Waseem Sep 2015
you don't understand my words
but still i am okay with that
i don't need your consent for writing
or thinking or speaking what i want to
you cannot silence me or stop me
or even try
i was born to write
and i'll die doing exactly that.
Javaria Waseem Sep 2015
before you fall in love with him
you have to learn
to love yourself
to trust your heart
to find your origin
before you find your other half
learn what you need
learn to protect yourself from harm

no no no my sweet child
it's not called being selfish
or having a cold heart
you have to know yourself
before someone defines who you are
you have to discover where you belong
before someone gives you his past

and now that you have finally understood
tell me if you still believe that you and him are
parts of the same broken star
Sep 2015 · 549
staying under the covers
Javaria Waseem Sep 2015
it's over four and he calls me on my phone.
i wake up from sleep asking him if he is alright
he says no word and just deeply sighs.
his breathing is rough, he pretends to be tough
i feel helpless, i want to help him, i want to love
but there is just a grim silence
i ask him "what's up?"
"nothing" he says "sorry to disturb"
"hey it's okay, we can talk if you want"
i sense his voice shaking, he is scared and lonely
i figure that he needs someone
"she left me" he cries "she left me after everything"
it breaks my heart and ignites a fire
i want to tell him that i can love him better
i want to tell him that i won't leave him ever
but i find no words, his voice shuts me up
"i loved her you know, i loved her so much"
he tells me how she made him smile and how she was always on his mind
how he wanted to have a life with her and how it's all ashes and dust.
he is all broken but it breaks me more
i wish i could tell him 'hey i can be yours'

finally he runs out of tears and regrets and his fears
he wants to sleep, i tell him he should
he hangs up the phone leaving me with his thoughts.
Sep 2015 · 362
Untitled
Javaria Waseem Sep 2015
humans are beautifully complex creatures
living simplest of the lives
whereas they deserve
more than they think they do

they deserve love
they deserve care
they deserve more than
all the hatred and despair
Aug 2015 · 1.9k
paint me
Javaria Waseem Aug 2015
paint me with all those messy colors and broken brushes.
paint me with your rough hands and scrappy fingertips.
paint me with all your love and your regrets.
paint me in a dark room with uneven breath.
paint me with dried out lips and the tip of your tongue
paint me all night till you're halted by the sun.
Aug 2015 · 390
satisfaction
Javaria Waseem Aug 2015
i blame the stars
and you blame me.
drunk
with broken hearts
we both try to find
solace
Aug 2015 · 397
favourite poem
Javaria Waseem Aug 2015
i don't know
your words
or your rhymes
but
you remind me
of my
favourite
poem.
Aug 2015 · 658
the grocery list
Javaria Waseem Aug 2015
this is supposed to be a grocery list
but i can't think of anything i need
except you
and your smile
your laughter
and your eyes
your touches
and your stolen kisses
your scent
and your secret wishes
your love
and your regrets
your heart
and your bed
your life
and everything else.

i guess that is pretty much all
that i need
right now.
Aug 2015 · 501
i need to breathe
Javaria Waseem Aug 2015
please, don't lock me up just to keep me closer to yourself
it's spring outside, i need to dance and live and grow.
i am a seed that is capable of producing the finest roses in the garden
but give me some room to breathe before i wither and dry out.
you can pluck the flowers i give and make a bouquet out of them
gift it to someone you love, i would never care to know.
Aug 2015 · 422
I want it back
Javaria Waseem Aug 2015
I don't feel like writing anymore.
The light has taken away my charms
Let me crawl back into the darkness
Let me be myself again
Let me pick up the pen again
Let me write without any care.
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