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  Feb 2019 charlotte
My hopes were lower than the floor of city puddles
Until, until
The sunlight came which was your name
And evaporated me into the clouds
And now all that's left is the little sounds
Of the new me falling all around

With a ripple I change
Becoming rain
Gosh... I really like how this one turned out. Not that the expression is perfect or that it's completely about me. But the flow, the flow.
  Feb 2019 charlotte
I found my mom’s wedding dress
in the attic the other day.
It was carelessly sprawled across dusty boxes of junk,
hiding in the corner of the room
as if it didn’t want to be noticed.

I remember it used to be beautiful.
It was once dove white
with intricate beading lavishly sewn into the bodice.
It had a full, glossy train that flowed behind her with each step she took.
It was glamorous
and expensive.
I remember she looked like an angel that day.

But it is no longer beautiful.
It lies unprotected in my attic,
vulnerable to the dust and rodents
that keep it company.
It’s color has faded to a **** yellow.
The beading is mostly scattered on the floor.
The train is frayed and torn
and I counted a few holes where the moths must
have gotten to it.
The dress is no longer glamorous.
My mom is no angel.

I found my mom’s wedding dress
in the attic the other day.
It was abandoned.
Like the rest of us.
  Feb 2019 charlotte
Rain on me,
I have been longing to be free.
Lost in my world, needlessly.

Rain on me,
I am tired of fighting but I will not sleep.
I refuse to be reigned and I refuse to be a sheep.

Rain on me
and show me the way.
This place is empty and I cannot stay.

Rain on me
because it has been too long.
I am sick and tired of pretending to be strong.

Rain on me,
I want to see the lightning pierce the sky.
As the thunder roars and the clouds fly.

Rain on me.
Let the winds take my mind to another land.
No one needs to know and no one needs to understand.
Tanay Sengupta, Copyright © 2018. All Rights Reserved.
  Feb 2019 charlotte
I fall for pain every day,
Letting it control me and light my way,
As i cut deep in my flesh with a razor edged knife,
Forgetting my family and future wife,
Cause i have realized the meaning of life is to die,
This thought will always come to my memory when i ask why,
If i am living to return to the ground,
My own screams will be the only sound,
That i want to hear as my head spins round and round.
Dedicated to Liberty Rushmore
A Fellow Poet I Hold As A Friend
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