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 Feb 2018 John D
Lior Gavra
Liquid courage to numb the pain.
Intoxicated to forget.
Offbeat blood, sent from heart to vein.
Returns with a guest, she just met.


She closes up, leaves the bar clean.
To her apartment, around three.
In bed she lays, counting some sheep,
That mock her, thinking she will sleep.
She hears the crickets’ lonely beat.
Reminding her of creeps she meets.
Sometimes they have a potential start.
But never truly go that far.


Each night dealt with some other cards.
But slowly starts to build up guard.
She puts less time in her makeup.
But drunks continue to pick up.
She joins in shots, hopes to pass out.
But in her head she hears the shouts.
Her heart’s hunger for real love.
Her clouded thoughts rise above.


A newly turned insomniac.
No longer sleeping on her back.
Till curtains peek with starry eyes.
So bright, leaves a forceful rise.
Her sobs like strings of violin.
A void no liquor can fill in.
Despite how much she tries to drown.
The aches resonate with shrill sounds.


Another night, still found no one.
A man enters, two drinks and done.
She questions him, “What is the rush?”
Always pulled into a quick crush.
But never really tends to last.
As he mumbles about his past.
A bartender, like therapist.
As alcohol reveals the gist.


Now drunk and loud, he starts to shout.
Before his crash, he raises doubt.
He talks about, the best he lost.
Always at home, waits for the toss.
She cheers him up, when in a rut.
He gets up again, “That **** mutt!
To see her hurt, curled up in bed.
I held her paw, up till her death.”


The next night, slept pretty early.
He was perfect, brown hair curly.
Her eyes were lost, but not with lust.
Enjoyed his smells, delicious must.
A piece of her, became a part.
Happy to save his sinking heart.
Rescued him, he slept on her rug.
Named Milo, her three-legged dog.
This is one of the sample stories in my new book, "BitterSweet," which has become a #1 New Release on Amazon.

https://www.amazon.com/BitterSweet-Lior-Gavra/dp/0999497103/
No words
will ever be
enough.
To express
what goes on
in my head.
The thousand
storms.  
that rise and
fall.
While I lay
in the
dark.
Thinking
too hard
about all that’s
scarred.
This is all I was feeling. There is so much more that I can’t put into words.
 Feb 2018 John D
lu
invisible me
 Feb 2018 John D
lu
“I’M OKAY.”
THAT’S WHAT I SAY

“I’M OKAY.”
MAYBE IT’LL BE TRUE TODAY.

“I’M OKAY.”
MY WORDS WILL ALWAYS BETRAY.

I’M OKAY
I’M OKAY
I’M OKAY

BUT I’M NOT OKAY
NOT TODAY
NOT YESTERDAY

I’M HURTING SO BAD
BUT NO ONE EVEN KNOWS THAT.

NO ONE WILL EVER KNOW.
I’M AT MY ALL TIME LOW.

I WILL SIT HERE AND CONTINUE
TO BE,
WELL,
INVISIBLE ME.
1:40am
 Feb 2018 John D
Iqra
I’m so happy
 Feb 2018 John D
Iqra
Though the new, bright morning has arrived, you are still creating bliss thunderstorms within me...
My very first poem
 Jan 2018 John D
Lost love
We played pretend
We pretended like it never happened
Like it was all just perfect
We chose to play the game
We turned pretence into art form.
Holding a quill
I sat down to write.
I started to scribble
dripping ink
on the pile.

All I could write
was your name.
What words? What phrases?
could truly explain.
The way
I feel for
this person so strange.
pouring out my heart
There were things
I never
said aloud.
There were ways
that I didn’t
understand.
How people
could lose all
they ever had?
For the one
who wasn’t close
to stand.
But
as I looked
at my own cracks.
I could
just smile.
As it all
made sense.
All that ever happened makes sense to me now.
 Jan 2018 John D
Laurel Leaves
Define how you see me,
take your fingers and allow them to slowly climb up to my collar bone.
I paint you in scenes.
I find the familiarity in the way you mirror the comfort I always craved but couldn’t allow my throat to clear long enough to ask for it.
I wouldn’t find the absolutism in this moment, I wouldn’t be so present, I wouldn’t be so focused on the curvature of your lower lip as it edges closer and closer to mine.
I would be numb, you wouldn’t even be here, or your would be and I would have forgotten your name already as you climbed on top of me.
It’s like a receding hair line,
the pungent smell of betadine, the risky slip of ‘she’s not breathing’ but I heard them,
it’s deceiving.
lucky to see the way the sun rises, lucky to feel the pain
your terror exposes
how do I clarify the explantation
that unconditional only comes with the
vivid understanding that
god, it goes by so quickly.

— The End —