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Maha Apr 2021
like the tides
I push and pull,
scream and shout,
my strength washes ashore,
shining in the sun,
glistening amongst the rocks
grab it,
quickly now
before the tide comes back in to wash this beach clean
hurry now
before the current carries it away
never knowing where it might wash up again.
Maha Apr 2021
But what defines it?
Are there rules?
Who started them?
Most of all, is it real?
Is there really a reason?
Or, is this just like everything else?
Maha Mar 2021
do fires kiss my skin's senses not when I should be kept back at a spines distance
not when I solicit crimson splashes
from transients that gaze longingly
from a screens distance
but for the aftertaste of tenderness
I often wonder if the inferno that burns in a particular shade of loneliness
could be extinguished with nothing more
than what you call a "hug"
Maha Feb 2021
your hands are gone
misplaced by rendevouz
that swallow the entire night in their embrace
is that why
my skin bleeds honey
and my bones become a barrier
as the hills of my body are contouring around another
is that why
when their vines constrict me
I am reminded yet again
that you had just been
a temporary tattoo
Maha Feb 2021
a touch that once grazed the topography of my face
the valleys of my chest
secured the locks that kept my secrets
the same touch that now taps past pixels of my presence
in an effort to erase what once was
as quickly as it came
do you ask it
if it remembers?
Maha Feb 2021
I have sat here
watching the sun
each ray warming my stone
day after day
I have sat here
a constant to some
I didn't know it was there to others
I have sat here
wondering why I am
wishing for the end
praying for the beginning
cursing for my demise to be swift
I have sat here
waiting to die
for so long
that I have forgotten how to live
about me
Maha Jan 2021
I often wonder if their thoughts race as fast as mine
a racehorse, sprinting not for glory
for his life
for something far worse
lingers behind him
I often wonder if they strung themselves up from the rafters
peering down at themselves
omnipresent in a sense
do they cry when I cry
do they paint extravagant scenes with their heads
only to watch them play out in an almost jokingly slow motion
do they stare into the eyes of their next
sweet nothings slipping things past their shoulders
till hands are around your neck
and you've whispered "I told you so"
I'm afraid I hate asking questions, but I must ask one I'm most afraid of
how long will it take this time?
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