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I would always think of you as my first reason to keep my life worthwhile; my first reason to live and not just survive. You have all my firsts, hopefully to be my last.

I would always remember how the stars would shine for you, seeing and feeling every inch of your skin glows underneath the blue light moon,
How the night sky shines and rise for you. I knew that when I look deep into your eyes, I knew you’re the one.

I would always remember how fate and destiny lead us here
That every mistake and misleading decision I made lead me right into your arms
Each coincidences are not plain luck and would often happen.
It was a one in a million experience and yet was still meant for it to happen.

I would always remember how we first sat and talked, with our hearts full of passion and tranquility, that neither of us never wanted to stand up and leave on that coffee table we were sitting in
I knew from the very start that you will be the one.
You understood all my thoughts in a blink of an eye back then, our thoughts clicked in just a jiff and I think it’s a beautiful thing for me.

I would often think of the future with you. That one day I’ll wake up next to you, morning sun rays hitting our morning faces.
With our tangled feet underneath the tangled sheets
We’ll wander with our minds, never wanting to get out of bed and do our errands for that day.

You never fail to seize my mind, and you know that.
You never fail to bring out the best in me and pull out the worst.
You were my hope when in times of doubt and darkness, you are my star.
You taught me to sail far across my comfort zones and to ride back on each big waves I will encounter.
Through the rigged battles that we have, yet I still don’t know when to come, you just sat there with me, telling me not to worry a single bit.

I would always think of you as my first reason to keep my life worthwhile; my first reason to live and not just survive. You have all my firsts, hopefully to be my last.
Christina L Dec 2016
Your tears on my neck
my sobs on yours
your sniffle and gasp for air
my shaky hands and gripping arms
your hand holding onto mine
not letting me go
and then pulling me for another hug
another kiss
Just one more
and then another
if we keep this up
I won't have to say goodbye.
Julia Mae Dec 2016
her laugh was cold.
"i know he doesn't care about me. and the worst part is, i know it, but i can't seem to walk away. i'm sitting here feeling sad for myself for this mess i choose to stay in. and i only have myself to blame."
her smile was small and sad.
"love... it does crazy things."
Nida Mahmoed Dec 2016
Keep close her in the Winter Breeze,
And her warm breath’
Will keep your soul and body warm,
With her quite mourning of sudden deaths,
And her humble celebrations,
Watch, as her desolate darkness,
Gives life to prolific rebirths!

By: Nida Mahmoed.
Jason Harris Oct 2016
It was Freddie Hubbard on the trumpet
blowing on about some blue moon,
as if the yellow one that has occupied
the night and sometimes morning sky
wasn’t enough, when I decided to write
a poem about thinking about tomorrow.

How I will rise before the rest, run a few
miles on a treadmill overlooking a busy
boulevard and read the private memoirs
of a justified sinner. And when the tomorrow
that I was thinking about comes with its new
minutes and hours, its new obstacles and

headaches, I will think back to today
and remember the morning kiss you gave,
the silence between your body and mine,
the amount of times you changed your outfit
before the lake, the museum: the live dances
from cultures around the world that kept us from

viewing new installments, the interracial ballet
dancers tip-toeing to a tune well-known to childhood
ears. But the one memory of yesterday that will be
with me until death do us part will not be of the
Shakespeare that I read nor of the raspberry
cheesecake we shared but of you: sitting alone,

waist-deep in a bubble bath. ******* pert and
motherly exposed. Resting comfortably above
your ribcage. Showing more beauty than age.
A glass of cabernet sitting where the razors and
shampoo usually sat. A young adult novel in the
white palms your small hands. But yes. The one

memory that will be with me until death do us
part and well, even after that, will be of me looking
at you: naked in a tub, your glasses over the bridge
but on the edge of your nose, and the rest of my life

before me.
Jason Harris Sep 2016
Your mistakes
and imperfections

the lines around
your eyes - small

miracles, little
biographical proofs

of your timely
existence.
For the Chipmunk in My Yard
By Robert Gibb
I think he knows I’m alive, having come down
The three steps of the back porch
And given me a good once over. All afternoon
He’s been moving back and forth,
Gathering odd bits of walnut shells and twigs,
While all about him the great fields tumble
To the blades of the thresher. He’s lucky
To be where he is, wild with all that happens.
He’s lucky he’s not one of the shadows
Living in the blond heart of the wheat.
This autumn when trees bolt, dark with the fires
Of starlight, he’ll curl among their roots,
Wanting nothing but the slow burn of matter
On which he fastens like a small, brown flame.

From What the Heart Can Bear by Robert Gibb. Poem copyright ©2009 by Robert Gibb. Reprinted by permission of the author and Autumn House Press.
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Francis Sep 2016
I am woeful of decisions that have once been made.
Fallacies clouded the judgment of my heart that I have shamefully been unable to detect.
An instant sensation of remorse, contaminates the mind as euphoria failed to fulfill my sadness.
How could one experience joy kicking love to the curb on an empty street?
A division of the conscience uncertain of it's conclusions,
But it being too late to repair.
The uncertainty eats away at this divided conscience for quite a stretch.
Dreaming the dreams of the love once lost,
A love lost by my own hand.
The thought of victory when feeling such relief,
But feeling blue at the relief when finally occurred.
Reality had too lost it's way,
On the road of which I am paving.
Cue that sweet, miserable sound of the miniature violin as it penetrates the heart I seem to have broken.
Her heart was once mine and I treasured it so,
But comparing the pieces of them shattered on the floor would be asinine,
Since hers are more difficult to retrieve.
I'll always hold on to that remorse for as long as my hands can bare,
But will finding love be as simplistic as running from it?
A place to search for it, I won't know where.
Remorse can be painful, even after a period of time.
Genuinely a human being
is suppose to listen to bees

Bees are little bumblebees
Dalai Lama is the
Cutest of them
All

Beings
Endure good~ness
Bye

With a mission
Working sweetly
Wonderfully unselfish

Unending
For a greater  cause
Forgetting about the fame and the flattery laurels
Achievements and Archibalds

Focusing on liveliness of a recent call n
Frivolous flattering sounds
Are gentle blessings

You'd recon that I adore your
Intense passion for
Poetry
By the looks
By shut eyes  eager to be soon open for a glimpse of
Outerness

The listeners are performing
With slightest ****** mimics
With crossed legs open
Changing a position
Scrathes on head
Winking
Nodding
Inwardly borne self dialogues

Your soliloquy
Is the sea of
Love, life
Loving

Me

By the memory
Reciting
Bits of your heart beats

When the tin noise  
Of your crying
Tears tears
Apart
Interrupted
Rumbles

When you dream of the mortal coils descendant
As a halflings brought together through
Dissolving into the golden
Cocoons

You've seen two
Butterflies

I've seen one amongst many

Each a divine gift

Within wholeness

You

There's
No peace
When you dissapear

And I yearn to visit a cultural event
In total darkness (if i shut my poetic eyelids and cover them with both palms) then maybe only the blood's tiniest brooks within my fingers may start the signal for the motion pictures inside the ideal world

The World's Spinning
In a  Absolutely Poetic

Manner
Kirchenblau
Let me embrace peacfulness
Within the secret garden

Let me taste of your
Nectary thoughts

Let me lead you through
Thundery waters

Silk veils and lyricism

Let me lead you through
Fire and ice n'all that is
Nice

Let me . . . oh . . . Let me

Suffice
Nida Mahmoed Aug 2016
Which you never tell to anyone’ even your own self,
Tell me about your dream'
Where we run in the dark jungle,
And pull the bodies out of the lake,
And dress them in warm clothes,
And under the naked sky’
We lay on the sand and the birds flying,
Until we forget that we are birds with big wings,
And can fly higher and higher,
It’s not like the sky where have to end somewhere,
It’s more like a morning song on a radio,
How we rolled up on a rush green grass ground,
And feel the dance inside our souls,
We kissed and there was another dream to start,
Look at the light through the window curtains,
That means it’s a brighter morning,
That means’ we are exuberance,
The light passing through our bodies to our souls,
Tell me how all this,
Tell me did you feel the dream in you!

By: Nida Mahmoed.
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