She’s the type to eat a bowl of ice cream,
shoot a gun, and be fine. I’ve never seen so many pieces
under someone’s rug before, but she keeps
herself in cookie jars, in ink cartridges, in book binds,
anything she can find. I’m surprised she even looks
in the mirror anymore. It’s not possible that she’s herself whole.
But she braids her hair back when she rides her horse,
she channels old Miranda Lambert
and pumps that kerosene melody through her veins
like it wont’ catch fire. I’ve seen her
poke her head through old sweaters like she thinks
it’ll be something new this time. I’ve seen her paint
her skin in expensive body washes, the washcloth
like sandpaper as she tries and tries to smooth
all of the uneven edges she’s collected.

I bet you could watch her memories in a wishing pool,
like in a mini mall, with all the pennies heads down.
They would spin themselves around the surface,
suffocating one another so that only the good ones would shine,
but she dare not pour herself into something that reflective.
It would only reveal what she ties into the waistband
of her old American Eagle jeans every morning,
and that would just be too **** hard. It’s easier
to venture ******* with a crummy perspective
and a realistic approach than it would be to even consider
that maybe this time it wasn’t her fault
for expecting to much, and that maybe people just ***** up.
That maybe, for once she wouldn't blame it on it getting her hopes up
that made her fall, but that no one was there to catch her.
I’d rather watch her cry herself to sleep for months

than to pretend I admire the harsh falsetto she bites back
in all of her lullabies. But she’s the type
to burn old pictures for fun, to delete contact names,
to swallow all her sadness and paint her bedroom a new color
than watch herself come undone.

“It’s been trying to rain.” My Grandfather said to me over the summer
Not even looking at the bright hot blue sky with very few clouds
As if they each were a living thing, capable of trying to do anything at all

A couple days later, it rained for a few dozen hours straight
Y’know, for a long while now, I’ve felt like I’m finally on the path of self-discovery
That I’m mere inches away from self-actualization
Now, I wish that it would finally come

I’ve been relearning most of the things that I thought I knew
Like how to read and write and think and feel
I’m even learning new lessons
Like how to believe
And be strong
And be calm
Hoping to be wise one day
Like my Grandfather

And on the day he died, it rained all night
The world was weeping, its tears
Were frozen and bitter

I don’t know what to say
But I know now that I can feel because
I can point out the sorrow constantly in my chest
I can taste the burning sensation
Bubbling up the back of my throat

I have never felt this way before
I’m trying to be strong
But realization, it comes in waves
We never got to go fishing again
Never got to grow one more garden in the spring

According to mom, grandpa was my first word
And I’ve found myself speaking a lot more softly than average
Like a lone cloud in the desert when it’s trying to rain

I've been staring into the dark every night thinking of nothing
But when I do think, lately I’ve been thinking of, well
It’s hard to explain, but it feels like that self-actualization
It feels like it’s across some vast, empty part of my soul
And through much, much more pain
But it’s waiting for days later
When hopefully I’ll understand life and death
And my spot in between them both

I know nothing of death
That’s why I’ll always love the music that the river makes
That’s why I’ll always love the feeling of dirt under my nails
And the smell of the air when it’s trying to rain
Cause I know that this is life, life is precious
Life is the most beautiful thing in the universe

Two weeks later and the world is crying bitter cold tears again
And I know in my heart I’ll never feel the same warmth
I’ll never be used to this, everything is changed
My eyes are always trying to rain
But I’m learning something important
Hopefully I'll learn what
The lesson is
Soon

on your first date you learn she takes her coffee
cooler than the starless sky
and by the end of the night you learn
she likes her showers hotter than the seventh sun
stepping out from the tub with her skin scrubbed
a scarlet hue that demands to be kissed until
dusk turns to dawn before your sleepless eyes

you wonder why she sweeps her hair to the side
after she says goodbye in the morning
why she seems so ******* guarded
all of the time
but you never ask
because you are afraid she may answer

she says she's never been in an accident
and you incorrectly assume
she is referring to a car
you swear up and down that she ought to be by now
because of the fashion in which she drives
like a madman
she says she doesn't believe in speed limits
or limits of any kind for that matter
she likes to get to where she's going and
she likes to get there fast
she's the kind of girl who doesn't believe in
taking things slow
maybe because she doesn't know how
or maybe because she doesn't want to know

she told me she loved me three weeks
before we got together by means of
mediocre poetry and a smile that
at the time
I couldn't quite understand

she says she's never been in an accident
and you incorrectly assume
she isn't referring to
all of the time
she spent
away
from
you

I have a journal filled with quotes and poems
ones that strike me with emotion
and take my breath away in the moment that I see them.
A thought that excites me is that maybe one day
someone will have a journal like me
and my poems will grace their pages
and be written in someone else's script.
I'd like to leave my mark on the world somehow
so maybe this will be my chance.

~~
Southern winds have gone away
The music player has hanged
When playing the last romantic song

The Chill North wind is Sigh of yours
Has grown the pale Afternoon
How stupid the fade trees Standing!

Distant garden flower's Petals
Wither,
Helpless,
Careless

Midnight dew
Create the illusion of Sound
Nearby Lamppost,
Standing in the dim light fog
Alone,
Retreat
As the Calling Owl of the Night

Smokes of Cigarette lost in the Shadow
Putting the day,
Slowly vanish before
As the Mist
 
Along the road that you have left
Looked at me Surprisingly
Opening the door,
Just want to scream for unknown reasons
Once Again
~~
@Musfiq us shaleheen