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He wanted to hold her hand
but his hands shook with
the memories of his childhood.
The musty room, clouded
with the sweet stink cigar smoke.
His father who stank of acrid alcohol
And a voice that rumbled like thunder.
The crack of the belt across his skin.

She wanted to hold his hand
but her hands shook with
the all too recent past.
The man who claimed to love her
but dragged her down the stairs by her hair
if she wouldn't lie with him or play housewife.
His bitter breath on her neck,
and the bruises he left on her skin.

Shaking hands, various pasts.
Maybe if both our hands shake,
We won't notice our own pain.
If I could express
In the most eloquent way
The need I suppress
To hate you every day

The Simple Alignment
Of pen on paper
A simple consignment
Of words to vapour

My god, the darkness that broils behind this grin
The dark resentment, every present within

But I digress
I smile and whittle away
Accepting the stress
That comes with every day
No matter the anger
That singes me like a lit cigar
No matter the danger
Of that burning to my heart

I smile, grin and bear it so to say
Till one day I snap, and throw it all away
Toss it to the wind, that cold bitter grey
Till its whipping envelops me
Its pressure that of an endless sea
Until the earth connects, and I cease to be
God have mercy, set me free
 Nov 2014 Karishma Chokshi
Swells
Or if the morning doesn't come
by the time you find home
I'll paint white doves by your feet
to take care of your bones,

so that if you can't open your eyes
by the time I come around
I'll lay in your grave, meet the gray ocean and
let you be

and then
maybe
you'll get to know peace,

and the wind will tell me it's okay for you to leave.

— The End —