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Nira Oct 2017
I'm sorry but i fell in love tonight
And it wasn't with you
He just passed by, and even in a crowd
I had eyes only for him
And my heart skipped a beat
Everything around me paused
So cliché yet so lovely
He looked like he'd been crying
After all its new york city
Where everyone's dreams are crushed
By stinking feet in a scented atmosphere
I'm sorry I couldn't love you
But here in new york city
I fell in love tonight and
It wasn't with you

-n.g. // i wish you'd forgive me //
Comments?
Belle Sep 2017
I used to always wonder how people lived in New York City.
Where were the homes?
When I was younger I used to picture these rural houses with beautiful green grass and a lovely wrap around pine wood porch adjacent to the Empire State Building. Then I grew up and realized apartments existed, I realized neighborhoods in the Bronx, Brooklyn, and Queens existed and were places where suburban homes and condominiums were.
I realized that not all homes were made with grass and wrap around porches.
Some homes were on the fourth floor of an apartment complex with a musty smell and a view of a graffitied wall in the ghetto.
I realized that sometimes these places felt more like home than any home in a small rural town with a smoke puffing chimney and windmill could ever feel.
Meat Stevens Feb 2017
8th avenue ***
**** out on ground crankin one
Thanks de Blasio
The gravity of your eyes
when you look at me
will never cease
to keep my heart
in your orbit
First non-haiku.
Tim S Nov 2016
I was captivated,
Mesmerized by her beauty on this Bronx bound 5 train.
I drowned in her green eyes and did not care to breathe.

Her ***** blonde, bordering brunette hair waved perfectly.
Everything about her was beautiful.
To say I was nervous would be an understatement.
I didn't dare to tell her how radiant she looked.

Another missed connection on a subway line heading uptown.
Hopefully I will see her at Wall Street again.
It isn't likely, but I would like to redeem myself.
Or at least say , "Good morning."
Another one about Kim, the girl I would see on my way to work.
i think about you all the time.

even when i'm asleep, i dream about your
fingerprints
and the way you snore,

and i have sad dreams where you tell me
that the sun rises & sets for us,
that western cities call to us,
and that june draws near.

but i wake up and cry without knowing why.

i think about you when i'm at work,
and when i'm on the train,
and when i'm watching racing droplets on the taxi cab window,
pretending we're the droplet that's going to make it to the edge.

and i think about you when i'm ordering coffee.
you like drinking it black because you think it makes you seem cool, and i tell you that's the dumbest thing i've ever heard - "you're basically drinking hot bean water then!" -
as i pour cream and sugar into mine, i glance up to see you smirking at me, lovingly.
nobody does that to me anymore, especially not when disagreeing.

i think about you when i'm washing my hair,
and when i stand in front of the closet,
and try to find a shirt i haven't yet worn with you.
it's a pointless exercise; they all have your scent on them.

i think about you when i'm making dinner,
and sometimes, it just hits me out of nowhere.
that i'm here, and you're there,
and my hands shake so much i have to put the dishes down.

it would probably be easier to not think of you at all,
to not be so familiar with how your fingers feel on my hips,
to forget the way you brush my hair every night before bed.

but i find myself deciding that i would rather know those things
and be in pain from the knowledge of your existence apart from me,
than to not know you at all.
Tim S Aug 2016
For the smallest of stature,
She was the biggest in the room.
It lit up whenever she entered,
And I did all that I could to not make a fool of myself.

It only took a weekend for me to fall hard.
She was quirky, but serious,
She was cute, but beautiful,
And I tried everything that I could to not get reeled in.

Less than seventy two hours...
That's all it took for me to feel like I had fallen seventy two stories.
And just like that,
I had to leave her and Ellicot City behind.

It was the longest three hour drive.
Back to New York City I went,
Leaving her and the weekend in my rear view mirror.
Heaven only knows when I'll see her again.
Sometimes you meet someone at the most inopportune time. This a story of one of those times. Here's to you, Alice.
Tim S Aug 2016
Two
Six
Six
Two
If she read this,
She would know exactly what I mean.

Her ghost is all around me.
Her voice rings in my head.

Two.
Six.
Six.
Two.
Even though it seems our chance has passed,
I'll never forget her.
Anna and I were always poorly timed. For one day in the summer of 2012 we weren't. That one day was amazing. I always thought that we should have tried to be more. This was written after reading Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close. Fantastic book if you haven't read it.
Ceyhun Mahi Aug 2016
The clouds slowly conceal sunlight at night,
Who then slowly reveal moonlight at night.

In this city roams the Moon of New-York,
Who's face reflects the city's light at night.

All kinds of people walk around up here,
In lit streets who're full with delight at night.

When this city is seen, it looks like an
Huge ocean of lights by eyesight at night.

Every time I look at this adorned place,
I fail to forget that bright sight at night.

At sunset this city becomes one square,
A place where people can unite at night.

From miles away you can see this city's
Presence and signs by it's skylight at night.

Every second someone gets Pleasure's kiss,
While another feels Despair's bite at night.

In here roam hedonistic people,
And people who are strict and tight at night.

In this city who never sleeps at night,
I hear singing in highs and deeps at night.


The breeze of the summer stays at night,
Witnesses the turning to days at night.

I can't fail to remember this city,
Since I've seen that luminous face at night.

Because of the countless sighs of lovers,
You can feel in the air Love's haze at night.

The city's melody is determined,
By what each individual plays at night.

The strangest of all and mundane of all;
Each one has occurred in this place at night.

The rich, the poor, the mad, women and men
All walk along light-adorned ways at night.

The lights reach every soul in this city,
Coming from hotels and cafes at night.

Wherever that Moon goes, it leaves it's mark,
At each place you'll find that Moon's trace at night.

It takes miles for pilgrims from far away,
To enter this place trough highways at night.

In this city who never sleeps at night,
I hear singing in highs and deeps at night.


The neon lights cover the street at night,
Who are set in places who fleet at night.

Traces of drama, tragedy and more,
Is felt in every hotel suite at night.

The homeless and party-goers here,
Both walk on tired and sore feet at night.

Meals on wheels at sight at every corner,
To serve people who want to eat at night.

Both the old and youth are called to places,
With pleasures who are bittersweet at night.

Streets who reflect neon lights in puddles,
Are places for lovers to meet at night.

So many people walk along themselves,
Yet there's no time to greet at night.

This awake city who is always breathing,
Always blows to me a conceit at night.

I can't seem to stop to describe this place!
About this jungle of concrete at night!

In this city who never sleeps at night,
I hear singing in highs and deeps at night.


This place witnesses misery at night,
And also witnesses beauty at night.

Millions of fishes are swimming around,
Trough streets in this luminous sea at night.

The gates stay open without any rest,
All people come and go freely at night.

Trough happiness and even ill horror,
This places stays silent and steady at night.

Those who're in love in this city see with
Little eyes, who perceive blurry at night.

Lovers are tangled up in each other,
While raindrops fall in an alley at night.

No one is an exception in this place,
Darkness veils your ethnicity at night.

Many have acquired shine up here,
And lost, in that shining city at night.

Ideas are hoisted out of my well!
Gihon will end his poetry, at night.

*In this city who never sleeps at night,
I hear singing in highs and deeps at night.
Poetic Form: Terkib-i Bent; several ghazals woven into each other but with a different rhyme for each stanza. Each ghazal is closed with a couplet who always comes back so that a next stanza can come in with a different rhyme.
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