One more day passed and he still not there,
Can tell none, can't ask why,
Days full of nostalgia and despair,
Nights still worry 'bout the last good-bye!
Tryna let the blues away,
Help me silence my dismay.
I live my life on edge,
Nodding my head in sullen acquiesce,
'bout to fall off the ledge,
Just tryna get relief from my stress.
Tryna let the blues away,
Got none to silence my dismay.
He was the sun to my moon,
The misty morning to my crazy midnight,
He was the cool breeze to my perturbed sea,
The star to my dark sky.
Help me silence this dismay,
I'm still tryna let the blues away.
Demolish the sun, pack the moon,
Pour the sea away, it'll anyways be dark soon,
Not letting the blues away,
Now, I love drowning in the fray!
-simroze
3.4.21
12.07am

Doesn’t she want to be the star
that reigns the dark sky?
Doesn’t she want a dream fairytale
That’s far from any deny?

Why is she so adamant?
To be that falling star,
Only with the purpose to never return;

What it is that outshined all the glitters
of the most desirable fantasy?
Is it the purity of wishes that
showers like some lovely confetti?

Is it momentary magic
Or a forever promised charm?
Is it more alluring than a perfect prince
with a vast kingdom?

Or is it the embody she calls ‘love’, that
made the loudest of echo unheard,
with its delicate hush?
  Is that what is making the imperfect celebration
full of happiness and laughter?

I hate it when the rain stops;
When melancholy fades,
I hate it when the growing stops,
When clouds' whispers no longer fill the sky with wind shades.
I hate it when the day caused by thunder sets,
I hate it when quieter it gets.
When the flickering lights go out,
When my inner self can no longer shout.
I hate it when the leaves go still,
I hate it when the roads no longer squeal.
I hate it when the rain stops;
When melancholy fades,
I hate it when the sky leaves me alone in saudade.
~Simroze
12•3•21
03:11am

I wish I bled messy, black ink
to spill on your computer-coded fingers,
to blot out your terabyte blue eyes
from looking down at me.

I don't know differential calculus
and your ribs are engraved with unknowable equations
unsolvable to me, though I hear them
whispering to your heart in the quiet mornings.

I wish I understood the sighs
that fall from your logarithmic lungs
as they labor so intensely
to inflate your data ridden body.

Beryllium, Lithium, Nitrogen, Carbon
spill out of you like names of lost lovers
but they never sound so entrancing
on my own poetry-stained lips.

So while you chant them like worship
I'll be searching for divinity in those no-use words:
Incendiary, Ventricles, Ancillary, Phantasmagoria.
They fall from my mouth easier than even your name.

The deepness in your voice echoes outer space
Both vast and complicated
cold and distant
deep and so, so far away.

I can't touch you.

to kiss you senseless until i am a seaglass buried deep inside your skin. to lick salt off your palms with paper-cut lips, until each breath has gone haywire. to quietly sigh your name until it baptizes my heathen tongue. oh, the wars i would start; the wars i would end — darling, there is something soothing about all the violent ways i can love you.

For the past several years
I have been writing break-up poetry,
About my body
How I am ready to be finally rid of it
To totally forget about it
Find a newer better one
How I wish I could have fixed it
How I tried,
How I’m trying to cut it out of my life
Starve it out of my garden, like a ****

I have been writing sad poetry about my body
About how it is dying
And dead
How it is broken
Had all the stuffing ripped out of it
Like a crackhead’s couch
Sitting out in the yard,
Free for the taking, but wet from the rain

And I have written this poetry for too long
I have spent too much time,
Breaking up with, feeling guilty over
And sad about
My body
And maybe that won’t change
Maybe I will always wish it to be different
But maybe I can learn to love it too
So maybe I should write for it some love poetry
For The way it stands effortless, a mechanical marvel in a stiff breeze
A wonder of motion, a running straining lifting machine
That does things,
Even the most sophisticated of machines, have yet to replicate
And how the pink mush between the ears
Lights the eyes like Christmas
And turns the body,
This body, this body that I hate, this body that I need
How it turns the body,
Into me

Oh Desert Prince!

Your existance is like the wandering golden sand of your fascinating desert;

Light enought to flow through every chambers of my heart,

Gorgeous enough to be the life of the caravan's artistic mirage;

Your love embrace me with sheer darkness and chills of starry nights,

But warm enough to captivate me to stay within your sight;

You are the desert Prince,
You flow like poetry,
Amaze like magic
Priceless unlike jewelries,
And your love seems like a beautiful tragic,
Awakening my deepest desires that I didn't know even exist;

Loving you is like enjoying a never ending magic carpet ride,

That keeps me on edge whenever passed by a strong tide;

Oh desert prince!
You keep me mesmerized how Scheherazade did to Shahryar with every story she brew,

Not Arabian nights though but there's always an unfulfilled thrill in every word you sew;

Oh wondrous prince!

Now when you have played the most melodious echo with my heartstrings
that'd shy away the Qanun,

I'll never let go of you,

Though I don't know if I'll ever have your heart as a miraculous boon;