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Maybe you don't really get it...
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I am a ghost moth,
An ugly nothing,
And as I fly up,
I'm called disgusting,
However I know,
They cannot see Me,
Cause I'm a ghost moth,
An ugly nothing.

No one can see me,
They love pretending,
They all grow weary,
Now they are leaving,
There isn't a light,
That won't come stinging,
I'm all alone now...

No news that I see.

I cannot be squished,
Although I do wish,
I've seen my future,
There's nothing to miss,
I always yearn love,
Love does not yearn me,
Not the parent stuff,
More like romancing,
When will I get it,
I've been cursed and stung,
No light in my eyes,
I wish I were done.

You will find someone,
That helps my curse grow,
Like it works backward,
It reverses flow,
Tell me I'm lying,
I'm only crying,
Why can't I wake up,
It's worse than dying.

Now to the ending,
I want apathy,
Drowning my sorrows,
Numb in my sighing,
When the light does fade,
It will then get cold,
Wasted my one wish,
Dead young, I was told.

I do deserve this...
I feel so careless,
The moth that's like me,
Hope that you are bliss...
Let that butterfly
   land
            on
                  my
         Heart

It’s been so long since I’ve felt anything there
Well… other than the THUNDERCLAP
That was you closing the door

Let that butterfly
    land
                 on
                         my
                                    Heart

It’s been so long
So long since I felt butterflies there
Dancing so hard it made me feel sick

I miss that kind of sick…

Let that butterfly
   land
                      on
                                      my
    Heart

It’s been so long
Too long…

Let me hear the wind from its wings…
I hope they whisper Truth

Let one antenna brush up against my Heart…
To remind me that I can still feel

Let it see me…
I need to be seen

Don’t fly away
                                    little
                                                                                     butterfly
Let me tell you
About the man I've been dating
He's gentle
He's sweet
He's kind
He learned exactly
How I like my blankets
For when he tucks me in
And he kisses my forehead
When he leaves.
The man
That I've been dating
Isn't afraid to touch me
When we're out in public
He has no problem
Holding my hand
Or locking me in an embrace
Or kissing me despite strangers
Being around.
The man
That I've been dating
Always gives me
The most understanding look
When I'm talking
About a bad day
Or when I'm telling him
About my traumatic past
Or even when
We're discussing random topics.
The man
That I've been dating
Went out of his way
To bring me syrup
When I ran out for my waffles.
The man
That I've been dating
Has cried
Trying to get me
To see how beautiful I am
Because he so strongly believes it.
The man
That I've been dating
Has the most amazing laugh
And my world gets a little brighter
When he's in it
And he makes me feel
Like I'm enough for him
He sometimes even
Makes me feel
Like I'm too good for him...
Something that
I'm not used to.

The man
That I've been dating
Gives me movie kisses
And the most perfect hugs
Like our bodies fit together
And were made for one another

I never knew
Any relationship
Could be like this
Until I met
The man
That I've been dating
In any second she's ready to die,
Grab the knife, peel her sin, and watch her cry,
Most days she never knows, whether to stay or whether to go.
Cross the street and don't listen to a beeper,
The only remains are a size 9 sneaker,
Lost and confused they wondered where she went
Not knowing her mind had already checked out and lost the rent.
One year goes by and they're sad,
They think of every day they've spent and why it went bad.
Well I'll tell you now and sooner than later
Check on the ones you love, near, far, and even off the radar
because you'll never know if they coming soon or leaving later
 Jul 2018 Mahnoor Shah Jhan
Her
the moment a poet
falls in love with you

is the moment
you live

f o r e v e r
left my phone unlocked
on the taxi’s back seat,
won't be the last time

called it a few times
finally, the driver picked up

he had a fare immediately after mine,
and was now headed way downtown,
and would call later
when fate returned him nearer my office

and so it came to pass,
very shortly thereafter,

we met on the street,
he rolled down  the window
and with the greatest smile of pleasure,
as if he had won the lottery
beaming,
handed me my phone

I had two $20's to cover any expense he might have incurred,
neatly folded in my hand  
and offered it right up, right away;
but the driver repeatedly pushed my hand away
as I insisted,
saying:

"No sir, no no, not necessary!

Allah sent me a fare
that took me soon back close to you, so,
  no loss of time did I suffer,
so your offer is kindly unnecessary!"


to which I replied,

"exactly!
Allah sent you to me
so I could reward you!"


and with an equally, beaming smile I continued,

"our ride and meeting today,
together was pre-ordained it was


Inshallah!" ^

something he could not dispute...
or my knowledge thereof and it’s
proper pronouncement,
nor
his amazement,
to disguise!

  we parted ways
   each believing,
   each receiving,
a heavenly check plus,
each, credited with a mitzvah^^
on our
respective trip logs,
our humanly divine balance sheets,
kept by the
single
supreme taxi dispatcher
Arabic for ^"God/Allah willing" or "if God/Allah wills," frequently spoken by a Muslim


^^a meritorious or charitable act in the Jewish tradition

FYI,
NYC taxi cab drivers are suffering economically by the explosion of ride hailing app cars, many unable to pay their bills, earn a living, have committed suicide over the past few months
https://www.nbcnews.com/news/us-news/sixth-new-york-city-cab-driver-dies-suicide-after-struggling-n883886

true story, poetry is there for the taking
the most frustrating thing
when it comes to a writer
is when everything
every word, every letter,
isn't enough to give justice to
the captivating picture of you
in the afternoon:

soaked in sweat,
grinning foolishly,
striking up a conversation
about coffee,
and how unhealthy it is
for me to drink
three cups straight,
to stay awake,

yet the bittersweet taste
stains my lips.

it spills down my throat,
covers my lungs,
and drowns them
with the addicting aroma
of coffee beans
and lazy dreams,
until i cannot seem
to breathe,

and the only thing
i can ever do
is to spill ink
for you.
10.12.16
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