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Meenu Syriac Jul 2016
Can winter be about us?
As we looked out through the windows,
Watching as the snow fell gentle,
And the silence lulled out,
The unendurable human noise.
The world outside sleeping in peace
As we sat by the fire,
Hoping time would stay still,

Can winter be about us,
Of that last time we ever met?
Of warm summers we thought we'd see,
And rainy afternoons consumed in caffeine and poetry ,
Of cold starry nights under a sycamore tree.
Of all the time we thought we'd have,
But didn't.

In another time
In another place.
You and I,
©Meenu Syriac
Meenu Syriac Jun 2016
And I roamed the earth listless
Hid under the rocks
And took cover in the shadows
Waiting for the final call

But as I took my last breath of a dwindling waste land,
My chest caving in to the toxic atmosphere,
Starved of my very existence,
I wished for one last time,
To see those forgotten sunsets,
The night sky dotted with infinite worlds,
Or birds taking flight to an azure wonder.

And as my sleep drew closer,
I couldn't help but remember my forefathers,
Who in great haste to leave me fortunes,
Tore down the very foundation,
Of what once they called home,
To prey on the beasts that they “swore” to love.
©Meenu Syriac
Meenu Syriac Jun 2016
I remember, back when I was a child.
And all that mattered was not getting caught having one too many candies.
I'd come back from an exhausting day at school, to the smell of fresh dinner and a sister ready to pester.
Sleep,wake and pretend to do homework, wait to go to school the next day, because all meant was to sit next to the boy who'd make me laugh and blush
Oh! But of course I remember the bad days. The rebellious child who could not bear to hear a 'no’, choosing to go to bed crying, only to wake up to a mother always willing to forgive.
I remember wanting to run, fly, soar, dive and all forms of escapade you can imagine. I wonder why.
Now, here I am, in the dead of the night, by my window,
With my charred lips and breaths of fire,
A parched tongue with the taste of cheap wine,
Somewhere, in an unfamiliar land.
Oh yes! I ran, I flew,
Until I lost myself to everything this realm of false hopes and white lies had to offer.
I was the girl waiting for an adventure,
The smell of pine trees and the wind in my hair.
I was the girl waiting to fall in love,
Only to find myself lying next to strange men.
I still go to bed crying, however.
Now I wake to up to an empty house in the middle of nowhere.
I play with the fumes I exhale, as another day begins,
Somehow wondering when this will all end.
©Meenu Syriac
Meenu Syriac Jun 2016
Dream it.
Build it.
Paint it.
Scar it.
Regret it.
Burn it.
Life, happens.
Meenu Syriac May 2016
Once I tossed my cares faraway.
I saw it crash and roll with the waves
As I drifted off silently,
Obstinately ignoring all that I am.
But when the skies turned grey and vengeful,
And the seas, harsh and unforgiving,
The salt in the air and in my mouth,
In my hair, and in my blood,
Swore to drag me away,
From the sweet, sweet bliss of ignorance.

Sweat breaks,
Silence rings loud and vehement.
Shards of glass leaving trails on my skin,
Seeking comfort and libations,
To fill this gaping void.
Oh the storm raged,
As I stubbornly tried to forget,
my encumbrance.

We eagerly wait to be the kite,
That flies freely in the wind.
But tethered are we, to this curse,
That is adulthood.

©Meenu Syriac
  Apr 2016 Meenu Syriac
Julia Mae
the good nights
used to be tinged
with kisses
and a soft caress
against my back
sending shivers
down throughout my spine
but now you say good night
with silence and
unmoving touches
i'm not too sure
how i became so dull
and unlovable
and cast away
to the colder side
of this bed
it's 5am,
i'm wide awake
this ache kept me awake
as you slept
your arms were in the wrong place
they were supposed to be here, here
holding me and keeping
the slumber less thoughts away
Meenu Syriac Dec 2015
We are what the silence makes us,
As trembling hands hold our hearts.
The noise is within us,
In our minds,
Our fears concur.
Should our faith and gallantry
Wear out
As stars fall out of the sky,
Should our lives be filled
With a void, so unspeakable
That our dreams can no longer exist,
I fear, then,
We are no longer human,
But a destitute without a soul,
Wandering the waste lands,
Without hope.
We are searching, contemplating,
Forever indebted to the scars
That have left their mark on us.
We love to be loved,
To forget the loneliness.
The noises become louder,
The chaos begins to unfold.
The biting cold, the icy wind blows,
And our names are but whispers
Lost in a whirlwind of emotions.
Rid us of this evil plague,
The mental calamity,
This direness of our toxic minds.
Leave us with a hope,
Maybe let some light fill our lives.
Oh how I pray,
That tomorrow will be kind.

©Meenu Syriac
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