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Zywa 4h
Sometimes I'm nostalgic
for frost flowers and a hot water bottle
old winter fantasies

to pictures of the parvis
our house full of aunties
the garden full of apples

a basket full of nuts
always something to celebrate
then, but for now

that is much too far away
now it is empty
behind the pictures

I could take with me
Missing the barren land
the wonder of the gardens

missing the unpacked smells
of the market and the passion
missing the songs of my youth

wiped and overwritten
I lead a new life
in my emigrated hand
Collection "Pending rain"
Cushioned in the cracks till the sliver meets eye,
I am a witness,
To the spider and the fly on the table,
Taking sip after sip of a heated debate over a purpose.

Eye twitching to the sides of the walls towards a painting,
Definition in the curves of the decay,
Still aesthetic from the lines to the dripping frame,
A figure crying with a smile at the dust and the webs,
Left by the painter.

We gander on at the ghosts of an empty room,
Before the creeks from the floor stopped existing,
Before the whites and the browns of the walls turned grey,
Where the fireplace whistles a fable,
Of a light it produced even brighter,
Than the beams cutting holes in the ceiling.

If not for the rain, I could've sworn I heard the songs of the tapping,
From the infants that stabbed at the windows,
Similar to the pitch of where the door used to be,
I used to scurry to the cleft of the kitchen,
To see the gods drink the sins of the passing week,
Where they would dance against the sides of the counter tops,
Before the moss conquered most of the tiles,
Before the corrosion ate away at the sink.

The rooms I used to venture to were worlds I thought never existed,
A land made of cotton and fabric,
Where the bodies would lie upon for hours,
Voices echoed from inside of a plastic box,
And showed a story of the lives within them,
I'd always watched till the frame within turned black,
I used to itch for the morrow and the after,
I used to crave for the revelation,

I still remember.
The perspective of a rat in an abandoned house.
Dianali 1d
I heard an expert say
missing someone
is simply an act of love—
So often woven
into unhealed pain
and heart-sores.

I thought of the night
I vowed to engrave
your laughter in my soul.
Kept safe as a personal vinyl,
sometimes replayed—
because I kept my word.
Watching by the little window,
I see those kids, I  see those pups,
Playing ,joking, running around
Giggling ,laughing ,on a merry go round
So much!  i envy ,seeing them laugh as they play,
So much ! i hate, that i was once as happy as they,
So much ! i cry ,i cant go back to those happy days
So much!  i scream, i cant run ,i cant play,
So much !So much! Just So much!
I beg ,I shout ,I scream as I say,
Take me away !Take me away!
I miss those days ,i miss those nights,
I miss the sun with its morning light,
I miss the birds ,I miss the skies,
I miss those stars ,I miss the moon,
Humming and dancing with those lullaby tunes,
I miss so much! Just so much!
I beg ,I shout ,I scream as I say,
Take me away !Take me away!
OH! how i used to wish and pray,
I would Grow up and I would say,
The money ,The house ,The cars i want ,
Its all i want! Its all i want!
I pity those innocent prays,
I wish I would go back and say,
Do not say! Do not say!
As God hears only a Child's pray,
I beg so much !Just so much!
I beg ,I shout, I scream as I say,
Take me away !Take me away!
I still hear those laughters and sounds
The winds whispers the rain weeps
Remember those days! Remember those days!
I still wish, I still cry,
I still hope, I still pry,
Child O' Child where are you!
Child O' Child are you lost!
Child O' Child dont run away! dont run away!
I cry too much ,Just so much!
I beg, I shout ,I scream as I say,
Take me away !Take me away!
                       __tsuki no ume
Dianali 2d
Sometimes with watery eyes,
Sometimes with contained sighs,
Sometimes with deceitful what-ifs,

Sometimes in late shifts,
Sometimes in mood swings,
Sometimes in life’s sweet plot-twists,

but always—always—
thinking of you.
At the edge of a playground,
The swings sway empty.
Why can’t I reach them?
The seesaw stands still,
Why do I only watch?

The slide, as if waiting for someone,
Yet here I sit, staring at the emptiness.
Wasn’t this everything I wanted?
The things I used to cry for,
The reasons I pulled back the curtains
And looked out the window,
The silent prayers I whispered.

Then…
What happened today?
Faint hums,
Of notes once cherished.
Distant murmers,
Of young faces I used to know.

Soft, red lips
Grazing my forehead.
Lyrics melting.
Into my delicate skin.

A beautiful song,
Tugging the strings of my heart.
And playing my every breath,
Like an instrument.

It breaks through
The haze of age,
And the years of new memories
That have formed in my mind.

Reminding me of the tune
That put me to sleep every night.
Sung by that gentle voice,
That I hold dear to my heart.
I blink my watery eyes open.
It’s freezing cold — needles piercing through my skin.
I see her smile, wrinkles adoring her face;
She takes my hand and tilts my chin.

We had home and I feel unspoken.
The lights, like sprinkles, shine in my eyes
I think I am in my birthplace, my dream space,
There are people around; they do not disguise.

They are my people and we are not broken.
I start to cry looking at the snow —
This isn’t true. It was once a real place
But now it’s just a constant dream; a sideshow.
you start to truly love your home, once you’re away.
06/12/24
I'd stick fake stars on the ceiling
so we could lie on my floor
and look them up together
pretending we're still in that place
where your name was a song I loved to taste
and you'd look for my eyes in every minute of the day

I realise only now
just how much I'm still grieving you
It's been years since I've called your name
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