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boy meets girl
like rose petals
brushing her cheek,
he whispers a warning:
don't get too close.
i’m not here forever.

as if it’s a choice.

girl says,
i really like you.
face like the sun,
trembling, she offers
a half-open heart.

he says,
i love you too,
like an unexpected hug
before the goodbye.
then he leaves —
just like he promised.
but he forgets
a part of himself
is now hers to keep.
this one is about us. crossroads, in someone else's journey.
july 24, 2025.
to Stefan.
Through a common friend
I met her once,
Years ago this was
I thought said friend and her
Were something else
So I blocked her from my mind.

I few months back
This came to life
I met her once again
But with a new light in my eyes.

Fair she seemed this time
Lovely and kind.
At her silly own jokes she'd laugh
Then suddenly serious and caring she became
Yes, she showed immense care.

She made me laugh
I made her laugh
Though my jokes she claimed not to get
She'd laugh nevertheless.

The way she laughed was oh so cute:
She'd cover her own mouth
And burst in plenty a tear
Of carelessness and joy.

So why did she laugh
At my senseless jokes?
I'll never understand.
For a time I thought there was something there
Although now it's clear there was naught.

With someone else she now lays,
A surprise to me
For she answered so carefree.
Regardless, it's obvious now
Everything she was to me,
To her, naught I was.

So I try to heal
I try to grow
I try to get my wings once more
For lost to me they are.

A struggle it has been
To climb such mountain of regrets
A choice not to say what I had felt
All those days ago.

So great separation I now face,
Long has this fight been.
With lows and highs,
I'll try never to look back.

For yes!
Everything to me she was,
And nothing to her was I.
All seems different,
like a blurry landscape
with vanishing maps.
The distance from the past
keeps growing.
I slice through space and time,
on the chosen path,
along a trajectory of circumstances.
Against the denial of access,
against the gate closing,
just to hold together what was apart.
Lee 7d
How the squirrel drops the nut-hat,
Perfectly where its to be used
For the millipedes to hide in
But I’m just confused

I have no skills other than to annoy
Unless my mouth is to be used
For reasons like his and her joy
But I’m still confused
Melody Wang Jul 15
In the dim half-light turned blue, she gazes
up at the bees who’ve trapped themselves
in her skylight, the slow hum of tired wings
beating against fat, desperate bodies.

A lone fly flits about up there, also, at ease
in its unbelonging. The bees circle
in growing anxiety, then slow to a crawl.
My throat tightens as I see my mother

grab the flyswatter. Don’t, I whisper,
but her tiny frame is already climbing up
on the kitchen table, her focus unwavering.
Oh, I won’t **** them, she grins,

her arm extending the fly swatter high,
a meager offering swathed in good cheer.
I rush over to steady her body to keep her
from tipping over in this precarious pursuit.

She waves away my offer to trade places
with her. You’re very pregnant, she says,
and her tone tells me there is no arguing
with her. My mother murmurs in Mandarin

to the agitated creatures, calling them
beautiful, letting them know she sees them,
sees how they’ve been up there for far too long
swelling with exhaustion and mistrust.

The first bee slowly climbs onto the swatter
as if entranced by her sweet, clear voice.
She hands me the swatter, and I fumble
with the backyard door, nervously

carrying it into her garden. I place the bee atop
one of my mother’s flowerbeds. It clings
to a sunset-orange bud, and I make my way
back inside. In silence, we retrieve, hand off,

and rehome each bee until all eight are
safely in the garden. Not one makes
any move to leave, content to simply rest
a while, to savor the fresh air, to revel

in the sacred space my mother holds
for every being she meets. In the fading light,
I watch her linger in the bare kitchen, a shadow
of a smile gracing her face. If only

they could see her in this light. Would anything
change? Or would she still merely be the next subway
push, another fatal stabbing as she returns home,
one more life snuffed out in a now-empty nail salon?
Originally published in Last Stanza, published as reprint in Eunoia Poetry.
Yash Shukla Jul 11
काश वक़्त को थामना संभव होता,
मैं हमेशा के लिए वक़्त रोक देता।
ज़िंदगी के उस पल को, मैं
थोड़ी और देर जी लेता।

काश अपने दुख बाँटने को
कोई अपना साथ होता,
ज़िंदगी का यह सफ़र
थोड़ा आसान बन जाता।

हमेशा अपने सामने की आवाज़ सुनो,
सामने हर कोई अच्छा बोलता है।
पीछे की आवाज़ को सिर्फ़ अकेले में सुनना –
दर्द का अहसास एक झटके में मिलता है।

कभी अपने कर्म को मत रोकना,
लोगों का काम तुम्हें बुरा-भला ही कहना है।
अपने खराब नसीब के लिए तो
हर कोई भगवान को भी कोसता है।
यह कविता २२ जनवरी २०२२ को लिखी गई है
Yash Shukla Jul 11
समुद्रासारखं आहे आयुष्य –
कधी आनंदाची लाट, कधी दुःखाची सर.
रस्त्यासारखं आहे आयुष्य –
कधी अपयशाचा खड्डा, कधी यशाची भर.

आकाशासारखं आहे आयुष्य –
कधी स्वच्छ सोपं, कधी दाट अवघड.
शाळेतल्या वर्गासारखं आहे आयुष्य –
कधी स्मशान शांतता, कधी खूप बडबड.

आयुष्याच्या या तुलनांचा
खूप गहन अभ्यास करावा,
परिस्थितीच्या अटी पाहून मगच
आयुष्याचा फॉर्म भरावा.
ही कविता १२ जून २०२० रोजी लिहिलेली आहे
Peter Balkus Jul 9
We have finally arrived at our destination.
The area was thick with silence.
That was the only difference
from the loud places we have passed through
on our way.
We felt like we have escaped the worldly lives.
Zelli Jul 8
Waves are breaking down my walls,
But this time im not afraid
The water is warm
Instead of cold
Im ready to learn
How to swim
In the midst of chaos
To survive every storm
That drowns the halls
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