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Iha May 31
"Have you ever been depressed?"
(she questioned)
Lying on her lap, fingers snap and tap,
Thumbs beat like drums, lost in monochromatic numbs.

"Side effects of the pandemic"
(she laughed)
Teens with their trauma, entwined with karma,
Does depression have one S or two?
Like spelling it right makes it less true.

"Have you ever been depressed?"
(she sighed)
History which couldn't hide, traces left, of what time had dyed,
Echoes of memories, lost, drifting like leaves, forever tossed.

"Sometimes you forget,"
(she softened)
A slurring voice, back in the club's heavy noise,
Not every ache is the dreaded cry, yet what’s the point in asking why?
******* those heels and let the makeup get you by.

"Have you ever been depressed?"
(she cried)
Every laugh's taxed, the smile lines waxed,
Joy's inflation, making me starve, in a world of elation.

"It’s not that deep,"
(she hissed)
You think too much, your coffee's gone cold.
Do I (you) dream, or do I (you) dare?
People wish they had my (your) share.

I'm (You're) fine.
I'm (You're) here.
I'm (You’re) breathing air.

"Have you ever been depressed?"
(silence)
A flatline's ring, a ghostly sting,
No icebergs roam, just foam and loam.

"No one throws the raft you see,"
(she spit)
For a ship that’s sunk, down with a clunk,
Life's a cruel parody, why expect rescue for this tragedy?

Cutting off what's meant to be, such is the selfish strategy.
How i hate those (you's) but still love you is forever a mystery darlin
Dency Jun 14
No farewell,no funeral
Just a love that died
Without dying
And a girl still dressed on mourning
For a man who never came.
Kalliope Jun 11
I wish I lacked empathy.
I don’t want to feel.
I don’t want to see signs.
I don’t want to be real.

One minute, I’m fine—
then my soul explodes in my chest.
I wish I didn’t see that.
But I did. And now, no rest.

I wish I could shrug,
say “that’s not my concern,”
but every flicker of pain
Causes my stomach to hurt.

I notice the silence,
the shift in your tone—
there's nothing in your voice
It's all I think about alone.

This is why I'm standoffish and stick to just me
There's no ache in loneliness
At least not the kind that stings

Maybe I'll make friends but that feels like betrayal
These self imposed rules- a safe fortress failure

I wish I didn’t feel
At least not to this extent
My day was going so good
But I ruined it again
But I'm healing
So I have to feel it
I'll be fine tomorrow
And then I'll repeat it
I lay there,
Face pressed into a pillow
Wet with every reason to scream.

“What did I do?”
“What did I do?”
Like a scratched record stuck
On guilt and grief and ******* helplessness.

She said she didn’t want it.
So why did she go through with it?
Why leave me behind
When I was already ruined?

I loved her.
I still do.
I saw us building things—
A life with messy mornings
And laughter so loud it cracked the ceiling.

But she’s married now.
She’s gone.

And I’m still here.
Still breathing.
Still pretending it doesn’t hurt as much as it does.

- THE END -

© 2025 June, Hasanur Rahman Shaikh.
All rights reserved.
A moment caught between heartbreak and healing. When one tries to moves on, but the pain doesn’t.
Dency Jun 10
I'd tell you I wanted to be the love of your life
I'd whisper it softly, hoping you might feel it too
Maybe you would laugh
Bt I'd bite my lips and try hard not to cry.

Bt I never told you
And maybe I  never will
Because some truths are too tender to offer
To hands that never asked to hold them.
She’s married now.
Six months gone,
And I’m still here
Talking to ghosts in my head.

We had plans,
Wild ones—
Run away, burn maps,
Name stars after each other.

And we did it.
We ******* did it.
Left everything behind like smoke trails.

But then she wept.
Worried about her parents—
Would they hurt themselves
If we disappeared for love?

She called her dad.
He cried.
That old man broke her
More than I ever could.

And I knew.
I knew I was losing her
The moment she said,
“Maybe we should go back.”

I took her home.
Even though it was killing me.
Even though everything inside me
Was screaming no.

Then came her wedding.
I begged her not to.
I cried like a boy.
But she didn’t move.

She said nothing.
She got dressed.
She walked into a future
That didn’t have me in it.

- THE END -

© 2025 June, Hasanur Rahman Shaikh.
All rights reserved.
A love once fierce, now a memory I keep walking beside—even when she chose a road without me.
She’s married now.
Six months have passed.
Why did she do this to me?
Things like this happen—
But how and why?

We had plans,
Dreams stitched into whispered nights:
Someday,
We’d run.
We’d escape.
We’d belong to no one but each other.

I remember the day we did it—
Left it all behind.
She cried quietly,
Worried what my parents might do.
What if they hurt themselves in grief?
What if we had made a mistake too big to undo?

She called home.
Her father cried.
“Come back,” he said,
“Where are you?
Tell me where, and I’ll come get you.”

She broke.
I watched it happen.
Maybe she remembered childhood laughs,
The smell of home-cooked food,
The weight of old memories
Tugging her back.

So I took her home.
Even though my chest screamed
Don’t let go.

Then came her wedding.
She told me she didn’t want to do it.
I begged her not to go through with it.
I cried.
I said everything.
I want nothing else but her.

But her mind—
It was elsewhere.
Fixed.
Still.

And so she married.
While I lay in bed,
Tears soaking the pillow,
Wondering:
What did I do
To deserve this?

I loved you.
You married someone else.
All our plans—
Gone.
Most of the happiest days of my life
Were with you.

Reality is cruel.
Fate is cruel.
You were cruel.
And me—
I’m no better.
Maybe I’m just…
Empty.

Not even lonely.
Just hollow.
Void.
Unmoving.
Unreal.

I make promises I won’t keep.
I talk big dreams I won’t chase.
I say I’ll change—
Then stay the same.
Naive.
Pathetic.
Unfocused.
A wanderer with no real will to move.

Sometimes I ask for advice,
But I forget it in an hour.
I live in loops.
Wake up.
Pretend.
Sleep.
Repeat.

I say I want to change,
But what do I even want?
Do I want anything?
Do I even know?
No goals.
Just daydreams.

A fantasy:
A life with no purpose—
Just food,
Peace,
Movement.
Trains, buses, faces I’ll never see again.
New places.
New cultures.
No pressure,
Just air.
Just being.

But how?
Where will I find the foods to eat?
Who will give me a place to stay?
Dreams are just dreams.
Some turn real.
Most don’t.

Then fate shows up,
Smirking.
Punches you hard in the face.
“Wake up, my boy,” it says.
“Some things just aren’t meant to be.”

Like us.

I miss you.
I love you.
I want you.
I don’t want to be without you.

But I am.

And now—
I’m alone.
So alone.
And I don’t even know
If I care anymore.

I don’t worry about family.
About future.
About anything.
I am empty.

"Help me."
"Miss me."
"Love me."
"Tell me, why?"

Why did this happen to me?
I’ve done bad things.
I’ve also done good too.
So what did I do
To deserve this ending?

I don’t know.
I am clueless.
I am lost.

I am empty.
But I still breathe.
And maybe one day—
I’ll begin to fill myself.
Because in the end,
No one else will.

But for now
I am just empty.

- THE END -

© 2025 June, Hasanur Rahman Shaikh.
All rights reserved.
“Some loves end quietly. Others echo forever.”

A poem about heartbreak, abandonment, and the quiet ruin that follows. It’s not just about losing someone—it’s about losing yourself.
Kalliope Jun 7
Do I reach out and plead my case?
Or
    Let
          It
             Go...
2230
Kalliope Jun 6
Time goes by slower

           When I'm Desperate
                        
                        To know what you're doing
1800
The matchbox
was hers—
bright red
with a tiger on it,
its head tilted
like it knew the ending.

One match left.
He kept it
in the drawer
beside loose buttons,
an eye drop bottle
half full,
a packet of salt
from a meal
they never finished.

He never lit it.

Not when
the bulb blew
above the stove.
Not when
monsoon took the power
three nights straight.

He’d reach—
then pause.
Then close the drawer
softly.

Until
the day
her number stopped ringing.

He struck it.

Once.

It flared—
brief, bright,
then gone.

The drawer
still smells
like her.

- THE END -

© 2025 June, Hasanur Rahman Shaikh.
All rights reserved.
A poem about memory, grief, and the small things we keep — and finally let go.
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