January: New Year's Anxiety

Another year coming to an end,
and what do I have to show for it?

Filled with light regrets
and a shakey sense of hope.

Feburary: Relationship Anxiety.

The societal pressure
to feel true love,
but I can't feel anything,
at least not truly.

April: Birthday Anxiety.

I thought I'd have progressed
much further by now.
Will I ever learn?

I should be excited,
I miss being excited.

June-July: Vacation Anxiety.

Everyone around me
is having more fun.
I can tell by their photos,
filtered and posted
on a simulated reality.

August-September: Nostalgic Anxiety.

Crisp leaves and cool air.
Friday night lights and
high school regrets.
This season felt better
when I was a kid.

November-December: Holiday Anxiety.

Family, stress.
I should be happy,
but I feel so empty.
Attempts at connection
remind me how alone
I actually am.


And the cycle continues.

You strip me bare,
crawl under my skin,
and worm into my brain.
In a blink you’re mine,
I’m yours.
In a blink you’re gone,
I’m yours,
still.

She has got
A sew master 5000

It has All of the
bells and whistles
And modern conveniences
To stitch things together
Like our hands
That fit together
Like two love bugs
Just tryna fly the same way

In her closet,
She keeps boxes of
Sequins and thread
Spread tenderly across
Her papier-mâché armor set
Marked carefully with
Patterns and measurements
That lesser men have
Lived up to

And I
Have never
Been one to mend
Cause I have known
Needles in a darker light
But tonight

She’s got me sick of
Living in funeral homes
Sick of digging up bones
From my past to
Patch the tattered
Patterns of holes
In my heart from
When I was a
Lesser man

When I hold her
I wish these hands
Considered more than
My loneliness

‘Cause she
Has got a heart of gold
And mine is bronze at best

‘Cause that dress
That **** dress

Is so
Indirectly ****
That I just wanna
Rip it off
Rip it all off
Every band aid love
Cause I don’t want this
Bleeding heart to ever dry up
I wanna give you every
Every liter every cup of my love
Every cavernous cabinet
Perfectly stained with your scent

Cause I
I’ve spent
My whole **** life
Growing this ribcage
To protect my
Tender parts

Training my iron heart
Just to be crushed by a smile
I know it will take a while

For me to pack my past
And throw my
Baggage overboard

‘Cause I
I don’t wanna
Travel somewhere new
Until every piece of me
Is falling for you

And yes
Double entendres
Will always be my game
If you were my dame
I would love the
**** out of you

I would
Be your cloudy days
Soak up your sunflower sunshine
Your brilliant radiance

I would
Shower you in kisses

Be the
Quivering thunder
Beneath your ribcage

I would
Make you rain

So you could
fall into my arms love
Whether asphalt or earth

Cause I
I want to feel your fog
In the morning
I want to feel your heat
The night before

I want to lick the teeth

I want to patch
Every piece of our
Quilted love together

Tether our grain lines in turn

Girl
I have never
Been one to mend

But
Hot
****

You make me
want to learn

He wasn't exactly virulent,
nor was he benovalent.
He was always vindicated
which never failed to indicate,
that he was sophisticated.

They said he was a gift taken for granted.
He was free but priceless.
He was what they desired to have
Yet something which made them crave.
It was said he was an illusion.
Which never failed to create confusion.
In the soft &impressionable mind of their's,
They said he seemed limiteless in despair.
But yet was quick in perky affairs.

Once lost he could never be found again.
He was 'time'.

~Faiza Khan