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Sabila Siddiqui Nov 2018
Deeper than the captivating shape it has,
Lies a greater purpose it stands for.
So vast and strong,
It rotates laterally
and extends at your will.

It stands strong, defying gravity
cushioning you for your comfort
and holding your pelvis still.

So appreciate it for more than it's curves;
stand tall and thank your behind
when you bend.

For it is greater than
it seems.
Thinking Doc Nov 2018
I'll wait for her calls in between shifts at work,
Or in between chapters of textbooks.

I'll wait for her voice to greet me through the static,
Having traveled five thousand kilometres.

It'll be love, it will be quiet,
and every time I see her on the limited rectangle of my screen,
Distance is an illusion.

In time, I will meet her, a roaring aeroplane will tear across the sky,
Over seas and oceans, mountains and wars,
and upon landing, in a timezone far away,
past the corridors and waiting rooms,
amidst throngs of waiting people,
I'll see her and it will be better than a thousand dreams.
Emi Jay Sep 2018
the post-mortem will say:
sudden cardiac arrest
(medicine cannot quantify
death by a broken heart).

i thought it was sweet,
the arrhythmia you gave me
(at least the butterflies
dissolved harmlessly in acid).

you knew me, invasively,
a mortician's secret autopsy
(you counting my scars, ribs,
was it more habit than desire?)

curiosity is what killed me;
mine and yours, ill-matched
(i would have preferred cruelty
to your cool detachment).

the post-mortem has found:
i died of natural causes
(which makes you, my heart-
breaker, a force of nature)
(extended version of "tua culpa")
Emi Jay Sep 2018
the post-mortem will say:
sudden cardiac arrest
(medicine cannot quantify
death by a broken heart).
zero Jul 2018
I haven't been so sad recently,
which is rare. I had the bad five months last year-
to the point I nearly killed myself.
And now I'm okay, but then it makes me think;
I'm not acting how I should act.
I don't feel like me anymore.
I'm bored,
I don't cry so often,
I feel like I'm wearing new shoes
that are slightly too small, to the point they
rub but don't leave a mark.
I think it's because I got so used to
being let down, that my body automatically
drops me a few stories every couple of weeks.
My eighteenth birthday was bad.
I think I just gave up on birthdays
and to think they used to be my favourite.
Now, I spend my time doing what is asked of me;
go to classes, smile, do work, go home, do homework,
sleep and not dream.
It feels weird.
I don't feel like me;
I want to feel like I'm dying again,
like the world itself is crumbling beneath my feet,
that, if I smile or move a muscle,
my whole being would explode;
shattering thousands with reminders that I was here,
because now I feel empty.
I'd rather feel like death personified
than nothing at all.
My depression has been gone for months now- with one or two bad nights, but nothing major.
I feel unreal.
I don’t feel like me anymore.
I can’t describe the awful feeling I get when I realise I don’t feel anything other than memories.
Being alone has brought a new fear;
boredom- not suicide.

-Zero.xo
elle jaxsun Jul 2018
the mist from my dope
coping mechanism
tickles my nose and my lips

the corners of my mouth
pulled upward as my eyes
turn to slits

i sink into the couch

cuddle my dog

ahhh, i ******* love this
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