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Emma Chatonoir Apr 2017
4.08 23:00

It's been four months since I last saw you
You disappeared without a trace
Never returning my text messages
I accepted that I would probably never see you again
And what a shame that was,
Because we used to hang out and talk a lot
I didn't let the fact you were older than me
Bother me that much
Because you had the same beliefs as me
And I figured you would never ever ever
Do anything to hurt me
You're the same person
Who sits in the front pew with me
And talked about living the gospel life

4.09 13:45

I see you in church again
So I take the seat next to you
I'm so excited to see you again
And tell you all about what happened
I come home feeling taller
Than the five feet two inches I am
Because I feel like I have
One of my closest friends back
You're the same person
Who sits in the front pew with me
And talks about living the gospel life

4.11 22:30

You ask me to hang out with you
This coming Saturday
You're intentionally vague
Just tell me we'll do something
Just like old times
I become very excited
Because I love spending time with you
You know exactly how to make me
Feel comfortable around you
And I've never had to worry about a thing
Because
You're the same person
Who sits in the front pew with me
And talks about living the gospel life

4.14 21:00
I have a nightmare you tried to **** me
And get this uneasy feeling
That if I go out with you
Something might happen
I talk about it with some other friend
They insist I shouldn't be scared
After all
You're the same person
Who sits in the front pew with me
And talks about living the gospel life?

4.15 20:30
You pick me up outside my apartment
And I get in your car like every other time
You warn me that you have relapsed into your vices
I don't believe it's as bad as it is
Then the smell of marijuana hits me
I try to rationalize with myself
You're the same person
Who sits in the front pew with me
And talks about living the gospel life

4.15 21:00
This can't be happening
You keep telling me all about
How every time I have seen you
You were high as a kite
I haven't spoken much
I'm trying to be understanding
After all, I claim to be unconditionally nice
So I can't judge you
You're the same person
Who sits in the front pew with me
And talks about living the gospel life

4.15 21:45
You're on a smoke break
When I text my friends what is happening
Or at least a vague summary
Is this situation really as bad
As I think it is?
After all, I do trust you
You're the same person
Who sits in the front pew with me
And talks about living the gospel life

4.15 22:30
You're getting more and more agitated
As I turn silent
I'm starting to get scared
Over the thought of spending time with you
My mom was right
No matter what the reason
Or no matter how kind he is
Don't spend time with someone ten years older
And in this case, that applies to you
You're the same person
Who sits in the front pew with me
And talks about living the gospel life

4.15 23:00
You're now higher than before
And I get the feeling
That if I stay with you
I will die
You start trying to get me
To go get high with you
The smell is so powerful
It wouldn't surprise me if I was already
At least a little high
I feel sick to my stomach
And wonder why or how I got here
Then I remember
You're the same person
Who sits in the front pew with me
And talks about living the gospel life

4.15 23:15
We're screaming now
Because you can't believe
I don't feel safe around you
I finally get the courage
To make my escape
Storming off to the bathroom
And asking a waitress to wait with me
While I call for help
She asks me what kind of person you are
At least normally
You're the same person
Who sits with me in the front pew with me
And talks about living the gospel life

4.15 23:30
Help is on the way
I called the guy I like
Who I had been texting all night
And probably scared to death
With my attitude towards the situation
His parents are coming with him too
Worst first impression ever
But I am looking forward to getting out of the bathroom
Because pacing back and forth in a stall
Talking to a waitress who thinks I'm a teenager
Makes me think about what got me here
How I thought
You're the same person
Who sits with me in the front pew with me
And talks about living the gospel life

4.16 00:00
I'm escorted out of the restaurant
By at least six people
And introduce myself to the parents
Of the person I called
Hi, I'm not high, and I'm really sorry about this
I keep apologizing as they drive me home
They insist everything's okay, they are glad I knew
To call for help
And that I didn't get in the car
With someone high
I explain to them
You're the same person
Who sits with me in the front pew with me
And talks about living the gospel life

4.16 00:30
Home at last
I feel bad about everything that went down
Guilt is eating me alive
As I try to process everything that happened
I started the night thinking
I was the most mature person
But felt so small hiding in the bathroom
And wishing I walked away sooner
Why did I think
You're the same person
Who sits with me in the front pew with me
And talks about living the gospel life?

4.16 15:30
Good morning to me
In the middle of the afternoon
The person who rescued me last night
Wants to make sure I am okay
And apologizes for what happened
I tell him he deserves the apology
After all, I made him come get me
Even though he technically volunteered
I still should have known better
He tells me there's no way
I could have known otherwise
You're the same person
Who sits with me in the front pew with me
And talks about living the gospel life

4.16 17:45
You call me
I call you an *******
I slam down the phone
Third time I've ever said a swear word
In my entire life
It pains me to imagine
You're the same person
Who sits with me in the front pew with me
And talks about living the gospel life

4.18 01:55
I can't sleep at all
Anxiety eating me alive
So many questions spinning through my mind
What if I got high?
What if I died?
Can I ever stop blaming myself?
Will the guy who helped me ever talk to me again?
Could the guy who helped me like me?
Should I get over my crush?
What can I do after this?
And most importantly
Why did I believe you
When you told me in the car
You're the same person
Who sits in the front pew with me
And talks about living the gospel life?
Not my proudest moment
Corkey Hawley Sep 2011
I am going to miss our long talks
It's so hard now, knowing you're not there
Even when you were losing your memory
I could keep up with your fragments  

Still I miss those long talks
On the phone for hours with things we'd share
A tiny piece would be the key
to open those old torments

Seems like we shared so many long talks
No one  knew & I believe didn't care
Since we were not the same blood, yet family
You were my mother's angel sent

Those times of long talks
We shared secrets no one else would dare
Constantly in sibling revelry
Over your demise & monetary spent

We were all about long talks
So comforting knowing you were there
Never knowing a man's fidelity
three familys raised with good intent

Stories and sermonds were our long talks
The time we spent most unaware
Of  material offering's complexity
Sharing, caring, it all went

Long Talks
Is what we shared
Not blood or bone, some history
A long life with no repent
In Memory of my Aunt Sis (in law) who, at 90, passed on new year's day 2011, my guardian angel, CH
Gracie Gomez  Oct 2019
10/17/19
Gracie Gomez Oct 2019
just finished crying for the past hour. im so serious when i say this but living with a mental illness is so ******* hard. nobody talks about this. i’m really now starting to realize in college that i’m not perfect and how that’s ok. but nobody talks about this ****. nobody talks about what it’s like to be at school and have a anxiety attack out of absolutely nowhere. nobody talks about the drained feeling you get after having an attack. nobody talks about how when you feel your best and a couple of days later feel like absolute ****. nobody talks about this. i’ve had to figure this **** out all by myself and had to pick up the pieces even though i’m broken. nobody talks about how strong a person is for being able to do that. nobody talks about this **** and they need to. like **** dude. this **** is hard as hell and that this is something that a lot of people deal with. and ****, nobody even talks about how this isn’t something that just gets cured. this is something that you constantly having to deal with day after day after day. and that having a mental illness isn't something you can just get rid of. it’s something that you have to learn to deal with in the best way possible. nobody talks about that ******* ****. nobody talks about how you constantly have to push yourself and push yourself to keep going and to try to keep getting better and staying positive. like this **** is ******* tiring and i’m exhausted but you know what? i keep ******* pushing and i keep ******* living no matter how exhausted i am and nobody talks about how other people feel that way and how it’s ok to feel tired and how these people are strong as ****. but you know what? I'm going to talk about it. I'm going to talk about what its like to live my life and to choose to continue living it and nobody is going to stop me. not the commenters, not the abusers, and not the demons that WE constantly have to battle.
mental illness anxiety depression serious crying people write writing strong try
Igorgoldkind Feb 2018
Today was every other day.

My boss says
"Hey Joe, where you going with that staple gun in your hand?"
I draw a blank on my face and turn to face his
.
"You don't really know, do you, Joe? 

You don't know where you're going.

You don't really know who you are.

You don't know much of anything anymore,

Do you now, Joe?"

Then he laughs at me 
In front of everybody
He laughs and points at

What everybody but me can see.

And everybody laughs and they laugh and they laugh

But nobody talks to me anymore.
My boss don’t talk to me anymore.
My neighbors don’t talk to me anymore.

My girlfriend don’t talk to me anymore.

My doctor don’t talk to me anymore.

My mother don’t talk to me anymore.
My father don’t talk to me because 

He's long since gone

Flown far away from the words to this song.

I call my girlfriend up on the telephone

She says,  "Joe, I'm not your girlfriend anymore"

And hangs up the phone.

Nobody talks to me anymore.

I call my doctor on the telephone

He says, "hello, is there anybody there"?
I say, "it's me, Joe, doctor help me, nobody talks to me anymore!"
My doctor coughs and hangs up the phone.

Nobody talks to me anymore.

I call on my priest in the church down the road

I say "Hello, Father? my Father, is that really you?"
"Please tell me, dear Father, what should I do?"

My priest says "Joe, God don't love you anymore"

And throws me out through God's front door.

Even God don't talk to me anymore.

So, I go down to a bar to have a little swim.

There's a bar stool there where the Cross should have been

The bartender looks at me,
But he doesn't say a word.

I hold up *******  pointing up at the sky
So he pours me a double, ten-year-old rye.
Which I toss down and motion for another
All the while calling him "my brother".
The bartender stares at my face
As silent as the stone sleeping inside of that wall.
Nobody talks to me anymore.



On the street, the headlights blind my blinking eyes.

Strangers push past me, some I know, most I despise.

A cop car pulls up and flashes his bright light on me

The cop points his flashlight in my eyes so that I can't see.
But we already know, there's nothing he or I need to say.

He won't arrest me.
It just ain't worth it to talk to me anymore.

A ghost walks up and stares into my face.
He doesn't say a word; 
just hangs there in space
And  spins ribbons of colored lights

Inside my head.

There's no knowing with ghosts no more
The dead don't talk to me anymore.

Suddenly I see an explosion of lights

There's trumpets and harps and angels in sight
A liquor store, neon vision of light
Promises me the spirits of salvation
 and delight,
If I just step inside.


While next door, a gun store slowly cracks open its door . . .

I am my father and my mother's son and

I’ve never before bought me a gun,
But nobody, nobody talks to me anymore.

Igor Goldkind © 2018
Written in January;  predictive enough but sadly not amazingly so.
M e l l o  Jul 2019
Kape Tayo
M e l l o Jul 2019
Simpleng aya lang pero alam ko na kung ano ang naglalaro sa isip mo.

Ano na? Sasama ka ba?
Wag kang mag-alala hindi ako magtatanong kung
"open minded ka ba?"

Kung matagal na tayong magkakilala
alam na alam mo na kung ano ang aking sadya.

Umpisahan natin sa simpleng kamustahan,
madalas pag ako nag-aya malamang matagal tayong hindi nagkita
Saan ba tayo magkakape?
Ayos lang ba sayo
kung d'yan lang sa tabi tabi?
Pero alam kong mas maganda
ang usapan natin sa loob ng magandang café
pero pag wala tayong budget
baka naman pwede na iyong nescafé?
Ano ba mayroon sa pagkakape?
At bakit tila ba napakaimportante?
Ang tanong ano ba ang iyong forté?
Oh natawa ka mali pala ang aking sinabi
Ang ibig sabihin ko ay ano ba
ang gusto mo sa kape?
Malamig o maiinit?
Latté ba o yung frappe ang gusto mo
okay na ko sa brewed o americano
sorry medyo lactose intolerant ako
kaya bahala ka na mamili ng gusto mo
may kwento ako habang ika'y namimili
kwentohan kita tungkol sa mga taong
minsan ko nang inaya o di kaya'y nag-aya sakin na magkape
at sana mabasa niyo din ito
alam niyo na kung sino kayo dito,
wag kayong kabahan sa pagkat
ang inyong mga pangalan ay hindi ko
ipaglalandakan masyado akong concern sa pagkakaibigan natin
baka ako ay inyong biglang iwanan wag naman.


Simulan natin ang kwento sa kaibigan kong mga lalaki,
special 'tong dalawa kasi kakaiba
yung isa ang lakas ng loob niyang ayain ako
nang makapasok kami sa café
akala ko magkakape kami
akala ko lang pala yun
aba'y pagkapasok umorder agad ako ng kape
pero siya'y umorder ng tsokolate
loko 'to na scam ako
habang yung isa well,
ako yung nag-aya medyo matagal na din kaming hindi nagkita
kaya naman ako'y nabigla bagong buhay na daw siya
at umiiwas magkape sabi niya
gusto pa daw niyang matulog
nang mahimbing mamayang gabi
kaya ayun tsokalate din ang pinili
Ano?
Alam mo na yan kung sino ka d'yan.

Kinakabahan ka na ba?
Ikaw na kasunod nito.

May dalawa pa akong kaibigan
na lalaki,
pareho silang pag nag-aaya magkape
kailangan ko pang bumyahe
yung isa mailap at andyan lang
sa makati
at yung isa kailangan ko pang mag mrt kasi nakatira siya sa quezon city
sobrang weird lang ng isa kasi
yung bagong flavor sa menu nang café
tinatry niya parati
banggitin ko yung nasubukan niyang
flavor sa teavana series ng SB
Hibiscus tea with pomegranate
nasabi mo lasang gumamela
at yung matcha & espresso fusion
na nagmadali kang umuwi pagkatapos **** uminom
Hulaan mo kung sino ka rito?


Lipat tayo sa mga kaibigan
kong mga babae
pero bago ko simulan ang kwento,
madami akong kaibigang babae na sobrang mahilig din magkape
pero pasintabi sa mga lalaki
may gusto lamang akong ipabatid
pag kaming mga babae
ang magkakasamang magkape
pag ikaw ang nobyo ng isa dito'y
malamang lovelife ninyo ang topic
wag mabahala kapatid kasi
madami dami din naman kaming
napag-uusapan maliban sa lovelife niyong medyo kinulang
minsan may nangyayari pang retohan
pero lahat yun biro lang baka mapagalitan
pag ang topic na yan ang hantungan
kung ikaw ay nasa tabing mesa lang
malamang mapapailing ka na lang
sa mga topic namin na
punong puno ng kabaliwan
minsan pinaguusapan pa namin
kung sino yung couple
na naghiwalayan kamakailan, inaamin ko
songsong couple kasama sa usapan.

Dalawang grupo 'tong kasunod.

Eto yung mga kaibigan ko na kung kami'y magkape puro deep talks ang nangyayari,
mga bagay sa mundo na hindi mo akalain nakakagulo sa taong akala mo hindi pasan ang mundo.
Mabibigat na usapan na may kasamang konti lang naman na iyakan
sama ng loob, pagkabigo at sobrang pagka stressed sa trabaho.
Ilang mura ang maririnig mo
pag sensitive ka at hindi nagmumura
hindi ka kasama dito.
Eto yung deep talks na walang tulogan
alam mo na yan part ka dito
mga usapan na kung iyong pakikinggan ay
masasabi mo sobrang weird naman
ang mga topic ay everything
under the sun yun nga lang dudugo tenga mo sa technical terms at englishan.

Eto yung grupo ng deep talks yung topic ay puro pangarap, eto yung deep talks na masasabi kong very inspirational at educational. Hindi tulad ng naunang grupo
sa ganitong usapan madami kang malalaman.
Dito lalabas ang mga katagang
"Wag mo kasing masyadong galingan"
at yung "baka hindi mo ginalingan"
Sasakit ang tiyan mo kakatawa at sasakit mata mo sa kakapigil ng iyong luha eto yung genres ng deep talks na may humor, drama, slice of life, at shoujo.
Mga usapang trabaho katulad nang parang naging monotonous at routinary na ang buhay:
Need mo lang ng new environment?
Mag bakasyon ka?
Career growth?
Feeling stagnant?
At
Mga usapang gigil sa ganitong mga tirada:
Ilang taon ka na?
Kelan ka mag-aasawa?
May boyfriend ka na ba?
Nagpapayaman ka ba?
Bakit si ano may ganito na ikaw kelan?
Naka move on ka na ba?

Ano asan kayo d'yan?
Wala ba?

May grupo din na sila laging nag-aayang magkape, mga kaibigan ko na ang usapan lagi ay magkita
sa ganitong oras ay palaging
hindi sumasakto ang dating
Pag eto yung kasama ko puro usapan namin ay mga memories noong elementary
minsan lang magkakasama pero ang samahan solid naman ang lalakas mag kulitan o ano kelan ulit tayo pupunta ng mambukal?
Sino na ang ikakasal?


Sa sobrang dami kong nabanggit
muntik ko nang makalimutan ang dalawang babae na 'to
pag kami nagkikita bakit puro ako yung napupurohan sa asaran
ang layo namin ngayon pero sana
pag-uwi ay magkakape ulit tayong tatlo
sobrang dami ko nang baong kwento malamang yung isa dyan isang maleta ang hila niyan
sagot ko na ang kape pero pakiusap
hayaan niyo muna akong makaganti.


Ang dami ko nang naikwento pero hindi mo ba naitanong
kung saan nanggaling ang pagkahilig
ko sa kape? Walk through kita sa buhay ko, mahilig magkape ang papa ko, mas naunang nakatikim ng kape ang kapatid ko, yung isa hindi mo mapipilit magkape at madalas magsimsim ang mama ko sa kape ko.

May mga tao din akong nakasama magkape, may mga sobrang ganda ng topic. Dali na kwento mo na. May mga taong tatanungin ka din kong ano ba ang hilig mo pati pagsusulat ko kinakamusta ako.
Hindi lahat alam na nagsusulat ako yung iba na may alam, kabahan kana alam **** andito ka.

Salamat sa pagbabasa, ngayon lang ako lumabas para isama ka sa obra na 'to.
Asahan mo na marami pang kasunod na iba,
nakatago lang sa kahon kung saan memoryado ko pa.


Lahat nang naikwento kong tao mahalaga sa buhay ko, yung iba nakilala ko lang nang husto dahil sa simpleng salita na "kape tayo"
Alam mo na kung bakit importante sakin ang pagkakape?
Alam mo na ang aking sadya?
Kung hindi pa baka hindi mo pa ako kilala. Handa akong magpakilala sayo, makinig sa kwento mo. Nag-aalala ka na baka isulat ko?
Sasabihan kita ng diretso kung oo.
Hindi mo pa ba ako nakasama magkape?
Ngayon pa lang inaanyayahan kita, taos puso kitang iniimbitahan.

"Kape tayo"

Sana sumama ka.
Poetry appreciation piece for my family, friends & coffee buddies
From Jess's Lips Jul 2018
She’s got a cheap cigarette
she uses to bury us all in smoke.
It hangs off her lips
and wobbles when she talks.
She’s cracked open a new book,
another ****** romance.

It’s always romance,
she says, taking a drag from her cigarette.
It’s in everything, in every **** book.
Each word she speaks is followed by a puff of smoke,
small clouds that form as she talks
and roll off of the curve of her lips,

the very same lips
that told me romance
is for suckers, told me talks
of love are talks of nothing rolled into a cigarette
she’d never smoke.
She buries her nose in her book

once more, leaving me to stare at the book
cover and nervously gnaw at my lips.
The empty space between us is full of tension and smoke
and somehow, a stubborn romance
that hangs in the air like a half hit cigarette
hangs on the edge of an ashtray. She talks

to me, around me, and about me, but our talks
never include that tension, though I could write a book
full of the way she glances past her cigarette
at me, how her inviting lips
beg me to foolishly romance
her by hurling apprehensive smiles through her wall of smoke.

The tiny wisps of smoke
that swirl around her dance as she talks
about this dime-store romance
novel she happened to pick up, a devastating book
about a man who spent his life with his lips
sewed shut. She finally puts out her cigarette.

The smoke from her cigarette peters out and silence settles over the two of us.
I move my lips and no sound comes out. When she finally talks
again, I cross my fingers in hopes of being the next romance book she wants to discuss.
I never actually posted an edited version of this, so here it is. This is a sestina which follows this form:
1. ABCDEF
2. FAEBDC
3. CFDABE
4. ECBFAD
5. DEACFB
6. BDFECA
7. (envoi) ECA or ACE
Nobody ever talks about the days in spring
where you sit against the windowsill
looking out as the rain engulfs the outside world.

Everybody talks about the sweet flowers,
blooming in the vast sunshine and warmth
beautiful colors and scents overwhelming your senses
as they sprout from the lush, green grass
and the renewed freedom you have
as you discard your coat and scarf.

Everybody talks about the cool afternoons in spring
where you find yourself reading your favorite paperback,
beneath the ancient cherry tree and its bright, pink blossoms
in the serene meadows overlooking the thawed pond,
where the only sounds are the birds in the distance
and the faint rustling of the trees as they sway with the breeze.

Everybody talks about the days where
the sun urges the snow to melt,
for the cold to disappear and be replaced by warmth
that goes down to your very core,
bringing life and joy to the world again.

But nobody ever talks about the days in spring
where the rain steadily comes pouring down
and you stand outside on the wet asphalt,
welcoming it with a smile as it purifies your consciousness
and opens your mind and heart.

Nobody talks about when deep puddles appear at every flooded street corner,
and even now you cannot help but take one giant step into it
for children's sake,
allowing the water to fly in every which way,
drenching your clothes as you go on to the next one.

Nobody talks about when a storm brews up in the sky,
thunderous dark clouds filling in as you try to outrun it home,
but try as you might,
there comes a point where you simply accept fate
and stand there anyway as the rain crashes down upon you,
upon everything.

Everybody talks about the wonderfully bright, cheerful days in spring.
But it's the days with rain, the dark skies, the sudden downpours,
that I believe need more attention.
As where would the pretty flowers and blossoming trees,
where would the lush green grass and soft, quiet meadows be
without a little rainstorm every now and again?
Spring is my favorite season of the year. I love everything about it. This poem just kind of wrote itself as I was sitting in my bedroom, letting the words come to me as I could hear the rain outside my window.
From Jess's Lips Jan 2017
She’s got a cheap cigarette
she uses to bury us all in smoke.
It hangs off her lips
and wobbles when she talks.
She’s cracked open a new book,
another ****** romance.

It’s always romance,
she says, taking a drag from her cigarette.
It’s in everything, in every **** book.
Each word she speaks is followed by a puff of smoke,
small clouds that form as she talks
and roll off of the curve of her lips,

the very same lips
that told me romance
is for suckers, told me talks
of love are talks of nothing rolled into a cigarette
she’d never smoke.
She’s burned pages of a book

before, left small holes in her **** book
when a gasp left her lips.
The empty space between us is full of tension and smoke
and somehow, romance
that hangs in the air like a half hit cigarette
hangs on the edge of the ashtray. She talks

of mystery and science and pool and our talks
never include that tension, though I could write a book
full of the way she glances past her cigarette
at me, how her inviting lips
beg me to foolishly romance
her by hurling nervous smiles through her wall of smoke.

Clichéd as it may be, smoke
alarms scream when she so much as talks
about any sort of romance,
if even just the fictional sort in her book
and I want to sear her with my fire, burn her with my lips
just like she burns her cigarette.

The smoke from her cigarette doesn’t bother me anymore
and I can’t help but watch her lips when she talks.
I keep holding on to hope that maybe I can be a chapter in her ****** romance book.
This is a sestina and it was a challenge for me to write. I keep going back and changing things, but I feel a bit stuck with it right now. I think it's getting closer to finished, but it isn't quite there yet. I especially thing the second to last stanza needs work. If anyone has a suggestion, please let me know!
Bo Tansky  Oct 2018
Say What?
Bo Tansky Oct 2018
Say what
Say what was that you said?
So glib, so sure, so true.
Sweet talking you.
Hey, money talks
Ted Talks
Pep talks
Heart Talks
Talk, talk, talk
He talks strategic arms
And limitations talks
He talks the talk
And walks the walk
She’ll talk strategic arms
And limitations talks
If you want to
If it pleases you
If it keeps you safe
Makes you comfortable
She knows  
He knows
Well, no one quite knows what he knows

Say what?
What was that you just said
Between strategic arms and limitation talks
I heard you say

“The preliminary party of your subsequent and diplomatic arrangement of the nuclear accord.”

“Say what?
What was that you just said”
He continued with the thread.

“the inspirational and endless table talk of the North Korean faction is out of their minds”

“Say what?
What was that you just said.”
Oh!
Between you and me
I completely agree
As preposterous as that can be
Let’s call an ace an ace
And get out of the race
No argument from me
I completely agree.
Encouraged he continued.

“Yeah, well the weekly fourth coming and regular meeting of the extraordinary bicentennial convenes.”

You don’t say
They’ll likely have it their way.
But, I don’t quite understand.
Do you think you could elaborate on the plan?

He continued:
“The unemployment rate is up and production is down, but we're about to turn everything around.”

Say What?
Is that what you mean?
He continued to be explainful.
But it was so painful
That I tuned him out
Losing my cool
And began to shout.

Say what
Say what the ****
What does it all mean.
I began to scream


Nothing, nothing at all
But congratulations
You said it so well
That no one could tell
What more do you need
It was pretty indeed
And you said it so well.
That no one could tell.
Amirah Shahari Jun 2017
Table talks.
Dining table talks.
How they can burn your bridges just by one word,
No.
Or even just by a look,
The glare.
Oh how rude.

It's all in your head, they say.
You can't do that, they say.
Or they just laughed.
What a way,
To make you feel blue at times when you needed cranes to lift your spooned knees from clattering.

Table talks says that I shouldn't write my life away,
No ones going to care or listen or read to things that I pour anyway,
Table talks told me that why do I have to care so much, whenever i learned or read up on why the other side of the world is crushing.

Dreams, my dimly lit dreams,
Table talks turned it into ashes,
Just by one sitting.
You can't do it.
No.
But you wear the hijab.
They list all the boundaries,
When I say; 'I would..

Table talks,
Turn into them eating another,
And the piece of your heart,
To shatter.
Your newly lit dreams,
To burn.
And you,
To sink.
One way of saying I pretty much hate family dinners.
She talks

She talks, she talks

All listen, no one has an object

I sit far away and amaze

She talks, no one has an object

Why? I ask my self

I try to be near

I try to approach

When I reach

I find what I find?

I can't ever tell

She is very brilliant

Her smart is not smart

Like every that

Woman may talk

She talks and I look

What does she say?

What does she tell?

I forget everything

Except that face

And I still see her in front

Of my eyes and in the inner heart

Still in my ears ,she talks
love is the traveller between hearts.

— The End —