Today I was accused to being a bad influence yet again,

Simply because I facilitate the forbidden wants/needs of the people I love,

Simply because I give them a place to get high and vent without being judged,

Simply because I create an aura where they feel free to express themselves in whatever ways they like- modest, humble even ******,

And simply because the ones they love refuse to facilitate their haram (forbidden).

Haram is bad – we all know this

But being human is about passing through all things good and all things bad.

Being a Muslim, most of my choices are haram;

Not properly attired to the laws of my religion,

My speech is not of a young lady with modesty- rather it is defined with sheer profanity,

I rather laugh from my heart even though it’s supposedly a *****’s act,

I refuse to lower my gaze around men; the same men that stole from me

The same men that refused to lower their gaze from me.

I deny myself the potential for love because of the expectation of great dismay

And I drown myself with the 34000 thoughts of what if??!

This poem is becoming a disaster; my thoughts aren’t flowing straight,

I went from bad influence to haram to rebellious to depressing;

What the **** is this **** going on inside my head- it aches with great displeasure.

How do I contain my contradicting self?

Someone help me please, my soul is crying and sobbing for something to fill this void-

The void that is desperately trying to full itself with the acceptance of the people who are hell bent on not accepting me.

Why am I like this? A contradicting ******* disaster

-fir.m

the sun swore at us in pink:
'take the ******* hint'
we took it and ****** again.

"I want to go home"
I think
As I sit in a school cafeteria
Clouds above and below my head
Sinking down into my own personal hellscape
My mire
My endless pit of open ended thoughts
"Am I good enough?"
I think that I surely am not
I've never been good enough for just about anyone

Everything *****
So here I am
Trying not to cry
In the middle of a class
Over just one stupid person
One stupid, stupid person
Barely worth crying over

They say there's no use crying
Over spilled milk
And they are an oil spill
Staining everything
The sheets, the skies
Staining my painful heart

I just want to move on
To stop being stuck
On some teenage crush

Words don't explain
How ******* sad I am right now

what a shame.
to issue baseless blame
while the purpose is practical,
the practice is lame.

even slowed down in pace:
even with such flagrant displays of grace...
do ends that justify means wipe the wrong from this place?
I'd rather watch them dig their own graves, but to what end does this serve the broader space?

**** it.
**** it, no, seriously.
How many years go by and the feeling remains empty?
Fill it please, by all ******* means.
To the one who can, gets to see the real me.

There once was a tiny bundle of cells that grew in my womb
without the assistance of fertility medications or ovulation testing
a surprise spontaneous occurrence of the first sparks of Life
a product of the kind of ******* that happens on a honeymoon
between newlyweds full of bliss, lust, and hope

My womb once thought uninhabitable to such an occurrence
boarded a plane home five days later
cradling this new truth-
The Honeymoon Baby

Weeks would pass before my womb would begin to betray its secret
3 days late- nothing
5 days late- nothing
8 days late- the little blue plus sign and a whisper from deep in me-
“You aren’t broken?”

For several hours my womb and I jealously guarded this knowledge
My new husband not known for his enthusiasm wouldn’t share in my joy
So I sat alone feeding my hungry heart on now debunked beliefs
“You AREN’T broken!”

Having gorged myself to the point of bursting on a meal years in the making
I looked with wet eyes to my then partner of more than half a decade
“we made a honeymoon baby; I’m not broken.”
No, he wouldn’t share my joy.

His eyes turned to windows in the days that would follow
They screamed their disgust into the wide open parts of me
as pointedly and with as much passion as his mouth could ever muster
It was then that I began to silently pray the baby away

My silence only increased his vitriol until with a blast he climaxed in his rage
and I felt the cold of the recently adorned wedding band against my neck
as the hands which had held mine so softly so often pinned me to the door
Finally my silent prayers gave way to a singular scream
“I ******* hate you and I hate your child inside of me!”

My womb cried to hear the prayer spoken
She cried so long and so loud that she began to bleed
She heaved and sobbed her rage into rivers of blood that wouldn’t stop for weeks
and earthquakes of cramps that would rock me to my core
The unstoppable current of tears and blood carried the translucent sac
that housed the had been Honeymoon Baby into the ***** porcelain bowl
The baby I prayed away that would never speak whispered up
“You are broken.”

The honeymoon was over.
I hadn’t hated him before that.
Six years later to the day we signed divorce papers.

girlfriend girlfriend girlfriend
will you be my girlfriend
i know you have a **** but i want you to be my girlfriend
boyfriend boyfriend boyfriend
i wanna be your boyfriend
lay it down for me i want it i could be your boyfriend
i want to touch you
i want to love you
i really really really so bad really wanna *******