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Strying 4d
chipped nail polish
and ripped jeans
I still remember
your smile
your laugh
but you're gone.
✰written in class lol✰
hope yall are having a good week
mine's kinda stressful but not the worst ig
Natalie Aug 28
My hands feel limp and impotent
My fingers half-numb across the keyboard
I've never felt so thirsty for understanding
But nobody in the world is quite what I want

I'm not going to shut my door
Even if all the cold air leaks out
I'll stare into the frame and
Maybe something will jump out
Maybe it'll all just rot with me
Maybe something will happen to me
Because I can't happen myself
All I can do is stare
They killed their own brethren
At a lip order of General Dyer
They belonged to Gorkha,  Sikh regiments
They were so brave
It takes courage to **** your own men
Than to fire guns on the enemy
They were so loyal
They didn't turn guns
General Dyer's towards
Their loyalty matched the dogs
This was this they were called dogs
I wonder why they weren't decorated with gallantry awards
Killng their own brethren
They showed exceptional courage
And very big hearts
Jallianwala massacre. In Indian history, a handful of foreigners employed and deployed Indians to massacre Indians.
HAD INDIANS REFUSED THEIR EMPLOYMENT, RESISTED GREED, SHOWED CHARACTER, INTOLERANCE TO INJUSTICE, HISTORY WOULD HAVE BEEN DIFFERENT.
It is the mundanity of the act,
of envisioning your hand gently wrapped around the copper kettle.
Obstinately gripping the pen, while you wring a sheet of paper dry for the right words.
You, cupping my face as if you were holding something precious.
As if I might slip through your fingers.
It is this devastating simplicity that obliterates every shard of my being.
A brick wall, left at the mercy of a gleaming sledgehammer
that is determined to turn everything to dust.

I see your hands everywhere.
In the haze of steam and shower curtains,
the lines dragged in velvet throw pillows,
the cloudy smudges left on a glass of water.
They run faint paths through my hair, their touch ghosts against my eyelid.
If I stare long enough,
your palm is right there, pressing into mine.
Silver cuts through the air and delivers a redundant blow.
The dust scatters once more.

You did not leave a hole
the way everyone said you were bound to.
Empty space cannot exist without everything that surrounds it, yields to it, forgives it,
validates its gaping hollowness.
Empty space is a needle and thread on the dresser, a sellotape dispenser on the desk, a container of soup left on the doorstep with a get-well-soon scribbled on the lid.
Empty space is where you can see remnants of what once was whole.
The faith and conviction that bit by bit, you will put your fragmented pieces back together again.

The nothing you left was so thick and suffocating
that it permeated every room,
filled my lungs to bursting capacity and left me gasping for more.
Its sickly, bitter fragrance danced relentlessly in my nostrils,
as though my suffering was the sweetest symphony ever heard.
It waltzed until I could feel it rising in my throat and leaking from my eyes,
twirled until my head spun.
The nothing you left insisted on making its presence known my every waking moment
and then gleefully romped its way into my nightmares.

It was so quiet, though.
A resigned quiet, like that of the ****** swinging in the gallows,
when everybody holds their breath to watch the pendulum sway.
The crossbeam glistens with last night’s rain and
they trudge back home, muttering to themselves as the dust settles beneath their feet.
I sink into sheets creased by your fingers and watch it sway.
I'm talking fast
Breathing slow
Exiled from life
Why you left do not know
Your absence stabs like a knife

Because too much time on my hands
Don't go to church or the bar
Stare at the wall trying to understand
How I have made it this far

It bugs me you are fine on your own
I am only half getting burned
Tell me to hit you up on your phone
My messages go unreturned

My tongue itches with irritation
Sentences I dare not say
Can't blame you for infuriation
I kissed you back that day

I suspected you'd never ring my cell
I'm wrapped around your finger
You put my heart through hell
Lasting loyalty lingers

Supportive of you no matter what
Liberated or in chains
Too deep down in this rut
To evict from my brain

All I know
I am tired
Yearning to rise above
Adoration has expired
Why can't my love?
Heartbreak is worse when you have nothing else to think about
LC Aug 17
they quietly loomed over you,
arms interlocked so you never moved.
solemn faces, small, narrowed eyes.
you prepared to meet your demise.

but one day, their hands slightly shook.
that quick movement was all it took.
you pushed past those cold, binding arms,
embraced confidence, far from harm.
LC Aug 14
warm, bright words don't reside in your heart.
an ice wall blocks the way as they depart.
a shy, humble smile, "oh, it's no big deal,"
and those words are suddenly forced to kneel.
the icicles ***** your weary shoulders,
forming gashes, leaving you so much colder.

too much warmth? you burst into flames.
too little? you're frozen and maimed.
your hands, scarred and worn,
rub in vain, ready to mourn
as you look over the wall
to stare at the glow that enthralls.
Mitch Prax Aug 7
You have the only
hand that does not feel foreign
between my fingers

3:40 PM
7/8/21
Alexander Aug 2020
*
slip away
These hands can’t hold onto you

Like sand you give away,
through these cracks you sink
LC Jul 25
at first, the thunder cracks my eardrum.
the rain punches the soft ground after
being held back by the clouds for so long,
and I cannot see past the blanket of darkness.
as the storm rages on, the thunder roars,
but my body knows best like it always does.
my hands carefully craft a cup of strong tea,
and my body rests in front of the fireplace,
and the obnoxious thunder lowers its voice,
and the violent rain's touch becomes softer,
and I finally see the light peeking through.
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