~~
When so much light around
but you say the dark
I could not understand
my top layer

When I was in the womb
Then, and not
But there was light
Then when I saw your universe that you have made
everything was there

My playing companions
The Sun
The Moon
My beloved,
And that delighted
Night's north star was
on her forehead  
Where all of my senses have
grown up

Then at one sudden night of the new moon
I saw a thick overlay on the sky,
between you and me
The North Star has disappeared

I think that you were true
In the dark I find my known world
One by one,
Trying out through the thick layer

It seems to cover the end
As light yellow yolk
See a light-colored tint
which awakens my sixth sense again

A shadowy obsession
Which has yet to create an illusion
~~
@Musfiq us shaleheen

She's like deliquescent caramel,

the cool side of a pillow

        to lay your weary head,

subtleties of springtime &

          warmth in wintertide,

whispering hope upon lush  

        Zephyrus pipe dreams,  

    mellifluous nymph with wings

                 of a butterfly warrior,

softly determined,

    unfailingly true-hearted,

       whilst relentlessly ferocious

  Wise, yet sometimes struts

        blindly in the light,

       as dulcet tones of a cello's

           melodious marmalade

            in sentiment's tender fancy,

she's beauty, charm,

         knowledge, poetry,

               utter strength,

               & humane weaknesses,

she's twisted and ethereal,

           her aura sublimely captivating

     you may covet her body,

            you'll never possess her soul

death of a poet,
in retrospect
it starts out
ever so gradually,
ink dries up
without warning,
and veins purged
of blood, are now empty
chambers of depleted poetry

Your poetry is like
Stockholm Syndrome,
I'll follow you 'til I die...

How could you say sorry,
Through shades of words hiding.
How could she forgive you,
And all the fears you bring.
Why she would give you one clue,
With all the tears of the untruth.
Look at this closely,
Beyond all that she can feel.
Tell her there's a place
Always as an empty space,
For life inside you to fill.

the heavy heart is a heathen
corrupter of better nature
committer of soul-treason

fueled by the miserable notion
that death is twilight
and life is dawn

to flight, to flail
to rage, to rail
to weep, to wail
to no avail

to unhope

and all of this minus the mercy

Heart so swollen and sore
No one to blame but slow healing
Never wounded yet bleeding
Only cold blood rushing through the veins
No traces of drugs but getting high from the pains
If I fall know its toxicity
No antidote for captivity
Bounded by unknown curses no one can reverse
Suffering sins I didn't commit
Heart so hollow you can hear the beats' echo
Hush not so loud they'll call it "emo"
Don't bother auscultating, been there before
Diagnosis has been made its called broken.