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zb Sep 2019
it's been twenty-five years since i've seen you last
it's been twenty-five years since i set foot in these halls last
since i've heard your voice echo down these staircases and in my very bones
we're forty-three years old
a far cry from the eighteen year olds we'd been
before everyone had left and
before i'd held your hand for the last time

you're there with someone else
someone probably better for you in every way i wasn't,
couldn't ever be;
you've gotten a hair cut, i notice; it looks good
you look good in that shirt, under those lights
you look good
you've always looked good, to me

i'm standing in the corner.
where else would i be?
surely not in the fringes of the middle, by your side.
the lights are too dim to see you clearly
but i still remember your smile
the lights are too bright
to consider daring to approach;
i've spent years content in your orbit
i can do it for a night more

i'm glad i get to see you again
i don't know if i will, ever, after this
you live half-way across the country
you don't live alone
you don't think of me
not like how i think of you.
twenty-five years, and i'd never
forgotten the warm press of your hand on my arm,
the brush of it on my neck
i'd never stopped longing for you
but our paths diverged too early, and
we were too young, and
besides.
i had only ever been the one pining.

i can't get any closer, anyways,
you'd notice me
you'd remember me
you'd smile at me
you'd hold your hand out,
and of course i'd take it.
but there'd be no familiarity, no comfort,
not like how i want it;
there couldn't be.
she's right there, and
you never thought of it like how i did,
regardless.

i wish we were eighteen forever
i wish we could spend an eternity
as seniors goofing off in the library
as juniors at opposite ends of the school dance
as sophomores in the hallways after school
as freshmen hiding in math class during lunch.
i wish i could hold to that simplicity forever
no pressure
no isolation
just you and me, friends,
comfortable with each other
comfortable in each others' spaces.
who cares what kinds of feelings i harbor?
who cares what you think of me?
i had the freedom to press my hand
against yours, and you
had the freedom to put your arm
on me as i slept,
and that's the only thing that
ever mattered,
could matter,
would matter.

i wish i could stay here forever
i wish twenty-five years from now never happens
i wish i could stop time;

i wish you were mine.
Ava Courtney Sep 2019
I miss the person I was in elementary school: the innocent, untampered little girl that I was.
The girl I was before the world snatched me from my innocence and poisoned my mind.  
I yearn for the girl who only cried because she skinned her knee or her tummy hurt.

I regret the person I was in middle school, not for who she was but for the person she was becoming, I bitterly regret allowing the world get to her, for it changed her; it altered her in tremendous ways.
She became dismantled, unrecognizable to the girl she was just a few years ago. She fell into the world’s hands, and the world destroyed her, it took her and impaled her with negativity and poison.
For that was just the beginning of the girl, she would become in high school.

You see that's the tragedy of growing up; you lose the things in life that truly made you happy, things you didn't have to compromise your happiness for.
When you grow up your trade the simplistic and the care-free life for a more brutal and agonizing one.
Waking up and having your whole body hurt, and your eyes red and puffy from crying all night, but once you walk into those glass doors it suddenly disappears -- almost like it never existed almost like you never felt those things at all.
But that's just the thing: it was all real and you still indeed feel that way, but you simply cover all that pain and all that emotion with a mask.
Because you know it is harder to show how you really feel than covering it.
And that mask keeps toying with your emotions and so then you are stuck between missing who you used to be and hating who you are now.
Saige Aug 2019
She sits in class,
Her hair full of dry shampoo,
The dark circles under her eyes
seeping through her concealer.
Every class goes by slower than the one before
and its getting harder to pay attention.
She didn't sleep last night
but at least her math homework is done.
She doesn't remember the last time she ate,
But by now she doesn't really feel it.
Her phone sits full of unread texts,
invitations to things she wished she had time for.
But she doesn't have time for anything anymore.
Sleeping was supposed to be her escape,
but by the time 2am rolls around
she's still wide awake.
Leigh Aug 2019
they say be original
to be you
to not change or stray from the light within
but god that is **** hard
like I want to be a great person
one that I like
but what dose "be me" even mean
I get that we are all born original
and we don't want to die being a copy
but what if I want to copy the great people out there
be kind
be smart
how would I learn if I didn't copy little things every day
from the hair styles to the single smile  
I want to be like a collage
some one who builds myself
take something out of everything
maybe we need to stop trying to be original and impress
start trying to look at others and
admire the great things that already exist
this is just something I'm thinking about going into high school and every one keeps telling me its fine if I'm just myself but myself is a slacker with manic depression so I'm thinking about it in a different way
Emma Peterson Aug 2019
There’s little alarm
Brought on by
my alarm
Spitting its scream at 6:15.

For a moment I was free
From the trouble that is me
Or is it the work that is never truly done?
Nowadays it’s hard to tell.

I should prepare for the day
And break the cycle of dismay
Get ready for what needs to be done,
But I did my time
Last night until 2:09
So I deserve ten more minutes of ignorant bliss.

But the textbook by my head
And the notebooks on my bed
Remind me of what more I should’ve done
An A on a test
Is worth one less hour of rest
But my brain had decayed to an catatonic state.

6:45 and I’m already behind
Just with my first action of the day
I break out of bed
Pull a shirt over my head
Try and fail to hide the circles beneath my eyes

I need to succeed
So I answer my own pleas
For rest with empty replies,
“Work harder, plan more,
Get it done and just ignore
That feeling of needing to stop

For a few minutes

To breathe

And just finally

Think of nothing.”

Now it’s 7:15
I take my advil with caffeine
Leave the house
And do it all over again.
B Morgan Talbot Aug 2019
You are commanding the presence of an audience of children
Who do not, for a couple of hours, feel like children.
They feel like lightning bolts, and lovers,
Congregates of "The Broken Axe Handle",
Even if they hardly show it.
You’re telling them their own story
For which they haven’t yet learned how to form the words.

And after it all,
The crowd moving in a waking dream cloud,
You come into my focus,
And you practically whisper, “Seeing you there, you made me feel
Centered”
And I felt humbled by the honesty.
What a surprise to have such a weighted job!  
How impossible it is to take crumb of credit
For the beauty of your poetry!
I, entirely teenaged with endogenous anonymity,
Someone’s fulcrum!  

In a decade since,
I, (un)entirely grown and still ontologically unknown,
Still live your language,
Still aim to be the rock or
The hook on which to hang a hat.
Even when I don’t think I can
Even when I don’t know I am,
You make me feel daily that
In just receiving someone’s truth,
Eyes up,
I can make the return to be
Someone’s somebody.
Sabila Siddiqui Jul 2019
Whispers echoing in a trusted ear,
spoken to another ear.
Echoing louder than once before,
exaggerated and twisted
for you find everyone knows
those whispers you called secrets.
As it spread like a chain,
to one trusted person of theirs
to the next
The identity of those whispers
are no longer secrets but rumors.
giving  up  doesn't  look  good  on you 
the  day  that  you  will  breakthrough 
may  arrive,  if  you  search  for  the  truth 
don't  get  stuck  in  the  past  cos  u  only grow 
no  matter  what  you  do,  what  you  say 
you  can  not  remain  or  undo  the  events  

do you  want  to  be  rich,  famous  and  cool? 
if  these  are  the  only  concerns  in  your  life 
you'll  want more  and  more  for  satisfaction 
while  all  you  do  is  work  for  the  competition 
you  will  only  find  a  temporary  contentment 
money  can't  come  with  you  to  the  graveyard
but  all  the  good  things  you  had  done  can

you  will  survive  only,  till  the  day  you  die 
then  you  will  be  gone  from  this  journey 
to  the actual  life  just  like  each  of  us 
  
you  were  in  the  shadows  for  a  while  now, 
the  heaviness  of  the  mountains  
are  now  basically  on  your  shoulders  

don't  lose  your  dream  
because  of  someone  else's  ego 

your  job  is  only  to  move  forward  
while  you  are  in  a  war 



Muhammed E. K.  ☾  🅴  ✩
© LIGHT IN THE DARKNESS POETRY
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Muhammed E. K.'s debut poetry book "Light in the Darkness" is available on Amazon.com
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