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K Balachandran Mar 2017
The haunted place was a taunt to mind,
was wrapped in a different kind of silence
that felt more like an accumulated absence.

Absence spoke in the words
of disturbing silence
or punctuating meaningless sounds,
all of it choked and evoked a
formless presence bound in itself,
without any point of reference
name or connections,
all erased by some quirk
time played on the turn of events.

What remains is an eerie
absence pointing to aggregated loss
which binds the collective will to express
The ghost's relevance diminished
to mere nuisance, nothing more.
This ghost has no clue where
it belongs or where to attach
still it's a faint movement  between
the shadow of absence and a vague desire
to appear as  an apparition.
Nicholas Slater Mar 2017
I would like to paint the way a wild bird sings
Love the way nature loves all beings
The sweet song at dawn touching ears
The sun rising in your beautiful eyes
Soft skin touching mine another day begins without you here by my side
You are within me your energy running through me
But I miss you as I remember all those days ago, seems an eternity now
the memory of you fading slowly
Your touch your kiss your body pressed close to mine
As I lay her thinking about you a tear runs slowly down my face
Then I smile, with joy as I know you love me too
and miss me as I do you
Ema A Feb 2017
You had just left. I’d asked of you to go.
I watched you turn the corner in the afterglow;
I’d thought “Please stay” then said aloud “Goodbye”.
So quick to leave, you never heard the sigh -
what was unspoken didn’t make you sway.
Why did you leave? And why should you have stayed?
EJ Aghassi Feb 2017
I check the clock knowing time, 
at least, won't lie—
Two hours past 3
And that place down the alley isn’t open

The sun shines brighter than ever,
The strained pavement is hot and
Covered in cigarette butts

The garage door is locked 
And any sense of sanctuary now locked behind it

I turn back, resigning myself to
Burying my thoughts alive
Deep beneath the workday

The time passes,
All-too-many pores sweat and my
Back hurts like my stomach drops flat

I step outside this familiar prison and collapse
At the feet of lunar light surrounding me,
Bats whirl overhead and
My heart races faster and faster

Ivory, delicate ivory,
Clutching the silly purple sweater
That I remember you smiling to see me in

Head now down to the floor and
This same silly sweater becomes a metaphor 

These fabrics of your absence
Caress my tired flesh

There was a time where I counted
Weeks by kisses on the cheek

And
Not quite butterflies but similar insects,
Though they didn’t have wings,
Could be felt whirring through my nerve endings,
Their presence at the pit of my anxieties,
Squirming through the muck

But now my feelings fill that space
In its current state, damp and muddy
Left in the wake of sensations past
Something beyond the spoken word

Between what is known and unknown

A question without an answer, the
Suspended seconds before free fall

The eye of the hurricane or
The voice trapped within a ringing phone

Something that exists before it’s realized
Chaining two things together
Existing only in its own negative space

And now
A familiar feeling finds me
In the midst of my focus fading,
Car parked in the same old spot

But only now do I realize how foreign this land is, how
Impossible it is to reach from where you last smiled at me

This silly purple sweater wraps
Me tightly with what refuses to exist,
I'm drowning in the this feeling of
The only time you'll ever hold me

These savage fabrics at my lips and throat
Smother me with the affection
That you never in my half-life will have
Lunar Feb 2017
When one leaves,
They never really do.
They are present in the void
They have left you with.

Sometimes, you think you'd be recovered from a heartbreak.
But when I saw the picture of the pagoda I took on that day,
I saw your face.
Memories resurfaced,
the sewn heart has a few stitches loosened,
and what if's appeared once more like how they did on that fateful morning.
We weren't close,
I admit we never were.
But you affected me greatly,
and I wish I'd done better.
Now I can only look at you in photographs or in memories and dreams.
Suddenly, reality seemed less of a reality compared to the dreams and photographs you were in.
It's my grandma's first death anniversary. I suddenly miss her. Her absence doesn't feel real.
the dawn tinged the horizon
and the illusion sprouts
like a gem
the ides of  March
inevitable
unbowed
it blossoms and grows
in the hourglass
time slips
careless
inexorable
the beat of my heart speeds
my breath is severed
the last grain of time
has settled on the load of my nostalgia
and the wait ends
every chimera collapses
in the emptiness of your absence
and the sun sets
darkness fascinates me
the numbness of sleep raises me
until the morning
and the vicious ritual
starts
again
and again
and you
you're not there
Crimsyy Jan 2017
Tar

Remorse is a fundamental *****
you just don't seem to possess,
and so your mistakes are repeated
over and over and over
and it never matters to you
because they're just another
bad habit you can't be
bothered to break,
and I couldn't stay with you
because staying with you
to feel happy,
was like smoking to let
my lungs breathe.

I hope you feel my absence
as a mighty wallop of pain
all over your chest,
and I hope your lungs
will be coated in regret,

Our friendship was a cigarette;
alluring, seemingly okay,
addictive;
our friendship was another
bad habit I inevitably fell into,
but maybe I'm thinking
of the wrong bad habit.
Friendship is not a bad habit,
the bad habit was
you.*

Excuse me if I quit.
Crimsyy Jan 2017
Toluene*

My soul still suffers from palpitations
when it hears your name,
those overused butterflies are nothing
compared to the drunkenness swimming in my brain.

Just your arms and your chest
feel like my safety zone,
shutting the world out,
I've no need to roam.

I hate how unbearable it is to leave,
how absence clings,
I love you but I do wish
missing you wouldn't
make my eyes sting.
Crimsyy Jan 2017
Nicotine*

Your mother told me
I'd miss you this year -
I already knew.
I wish I could tell her
everytime I've had to
shove a blade of tears
down my throat so
no one would have to
watch my eyes bleed it.

The problem is, I
miss you quite easily,
I still need to build up
my resistance, but even then,
I would not be able to
ignore your absence
the same way you cannot ignore
a gap in between your front teeth.

I will have tearful nights
because my lips will ache for yours,
and my limbs will feel too isolated.
I will have days where I
will be in shades of black
like a funeral,
but that will be how I'll know
that I'm fully alive,
because I'll miss you so.

So I won't be able to ignore
your absence,
but maybe I'll put it to the side
until all the upcoming times
we'll see each other again,
and then I will let it all
take over me
and give into you, sweet nicotine.
Crimsyy Jan 2017
Acetone

The places where you
lit fires just for me
begin to dismantle themselves
as soon as your absence is felt;
Your hands were the stitches
that held them together.

Vulnerability inevitable,
yet somehow it feels
safe with you,
close enough to fire,
close enough to be highly
flammable when
exposed to air (love),
close enough to reveal
parts of me I'd always conceal.

This love is
violent and gentle,
somedays, an arrow to my heart,
others, unbearable to pull apart
and I guess though
that's what love means;
taking the euphoria with
the smoke,
staying through merciless
days of bloodshed,
just to keep a throbbing beat alive
and kicking to the gut,
adding salt to a bleeding cut;
I could bleed myself dry for you.
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