I'm an empty vessel,
A reflection of you in me,
Clear the fog that's my mind,
Then it's your eyes you'll see.

I let the water pass through,
Erase the memories I once had,
So I can no longer taste nostalgia,
Only the salt and it makes me go mad.

I used to write and I used to read,
But now I'm an empty vessel,
I drink in the waves you surf,
and spit them in a sandcastle.

And quick to drown me is the sun,
Recruiting the days against me,
They string me along for weeks,
The longer the day, the less air to breathe.

I'm an empty vessel, so transparent,
I let the wall have a more powerful image,
Disappearing into the landscapes,
So my unwelcomed thoughts will be omitted.

It's your eyes you'll see,
Cause for god knows how long
I'm closing mine.
I shall dwell inside this empty vessel,
If you glimpse a sight of me
Just make make a sign.

Mona Mohamed Apr 16

Oh if all the answers lied in the cap of this pen,
And it knew just what to write time and again,
Chaos of expression swept under the carpet,
A front of collectedness facing the world.

I'd write an apology that could slice through glass,
To get to have another take on an unmastered past,
It'd be all you need to hear before you close your eyes,
And the morning will bring a tomorrow of another kind,
Oh and I'd take this pen and stand where the currents oppose,
It would whisper to the wind, what to say, it'd know,
And all the anger would dissipate in well versed lines,
Every comma and every period holding it together like a spine,
Through the ink, I'll sail from my island of speechlessness,
"Rivers can fall from my mouths, tears my eyes can't suppress."
Then my mind can rest for a while, just a little while,
Clearing more room for newborn thoughts to pile.

But now it refuses to speak,
Letting my restless fingers twitch with tension,
My throat's overpopulated,
So I'm just a nameless passenger traveling to another dimension.

"Rivers can fall from my mouths, tears my eyes can't suppress." Quoting this line from Rupi Kaur's Milk and Honey.
Mona Mohamed Apr 12

You don't know how much
I want to be honest right now,
To show you my hands
covered in ink and charcoal,
Take you to the untamable waves
where I bargain with life,
And sweetly tell you the tales
of my intangible ghouls.

I can imagine you'd be appalled,
your features cringing,
But maybe I don't dream
of fearless knights,
Maybe I only want you
to be the youngest of flames,
To reflect all my unfinished
and unedited lines.

You don't know how much
I want to be honest right now,
To give you the sails
of my titanic drawn on paper,
I'd wear my dullest of my pearls
with their rusty chains,
I just need to borrow your third eye,
I don't need a saviour.

Mona Mohamed Apr 5

And both covers reunited
With me in between,
For once
it wasn't claustrophobia
that I felt,
It was pure ecstasy,
My mess gathered,
and swept under
the small masses,
That are the yellow colored pages,
Carrying the scent
of something ancient
yet eternal.
Chasing every line,
Like it was my sole purpose in life,
To follow them until I was lost,
Derailed from my walk,
And that's where a far more
fascinating journey begins,
Right under
the brushes of fiction,
Where anything was possible.

● ● ●

Mona Mohamed Apr 3

Blue lighting embracing the faded linen of the couch,
We grow flowers to keep life flowing through this house,
Because planets only collide when it's the end of the world,
And the clean tile floors know that peace can't be disturbed.

The last we amplified our voices on one another's frequency,
The year sparkly white lighting hung down from trees,
Naivete of youth counting down to the far unknown,
Missing the fact that it will then be identities to mourn.

And down with China plates we inherit this folklore,
Bolt your windows and hide from strangers at your door,
Cause opportunities are nightmares you should avoid,
You see, you're only a half waiting to be adjoined.

In search for a wall to cower under its shadow,
The sun is never kind to lone figures with no one to follow,
So it won't matter if you mend this vacancy with cement,
No one will see past the frame, wood doesn't comprehend.

Mona Mohamed Apr 1

Fate is hiding behind that tree,
Hearing fragments of your dreams,
Drawing a map on the water,
Following you under the moonbeam.

Oh you think your hands are full,
Stardust collecting under your fingernails,
And right before you jump into the sky,
It turns around and bites your tail.

So your pulse tries to hush,
Your shiny eyes appear nonchalant,
As you count your jinx encounters
Where your luck seems to bend.

You're always sniffing behind the trees,
If you betrayed a sign of your excitment,
The image of a future will be burnt,
Fate replacing the star alignment.

So you patiently await the worst,
And plaster a smile to reciprocate
the one hidden in every starry night,
As nothing is as unpredictable as fate.

Mona Mohamed Mar 22

In the late hours of early morning,
Precipitations of the day before,
Lay there like caked makeup,
On a face waiting to be deplored.

The sun makes for a good shadow,
Blackening irises, making optimism crawl,
Then when the night arrives,
You see black spots on every wall.

Your soul develops a stutter,
Hiding away in the side of the moon,
Loneliness is not a disease,
It's a cure for a remorseful afternoon.

Down with every gulp of too sweet tea,
Every resentful thought is fighting to win,
Every second hand image
You see in the eyes of a foreign set of limbs.

You're yearning to wipe the world away,
Just to mask your green footsteps,
And when nobody's looking,
You'll bury all those versions of yourself that you've kept.

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