Please don't get upset
when I tell you I've been drinking.
It's the only thing to do
that'll keep my mind from thinking
of the day we split apart
just as the sun had started sinking.
But I think I see it coming up, yet.

And please don't ask me how
I let the passion pass away
when you were always the only one
who could brighten up my day.
These kinds of questions have no answers.
Ain't there something else to say?
Just say it to me, here and now.

I know you think about me
when you lie awake in bed.
But you've got too much pride to call,
you just go to sleep instead.
And that's why when I see you now
it's lightly I must tread.
My whole wide world is hanging by a thread.

I strive to be the best lover I can be,
Not to say I am without faults,
Forgiveness flows through my blood,
Just don't take advantage of this.

Love blinds when it is true,
Over and over again,
Various personalities, lives collide,
Every wound from the ones before vanish.

Love that dies was never there, to begin with,
One has to wonder why it begins,
You can give your heart to one, or to thousands,
Although love is just a game of luck in the end,
Losing is not for those who cannot afford to play.

Perhaps there is some great unknown beyond what our simple eyes can reach for in the corners of clouds.
Perhaps when I look up at the sky I do not see blue, I see an expanse of quilted blanket painstakingly crafted by a woman of impossible beauty.
Perhaps we are all coats worn daily until our pockets don't hold loose change and our sleeves are tattered, and we are hung up for the last time.
Perhaps there is more to life than what is experienced in life and as the last breath of air flows lazily from our lungs the world pans out and it is so very small and delicate but special.
Perhaps we are here because we are so very insignificant and that is beautiful.
Perhaps the lake freezes over but life continues beneath the surface, thrives even.
Perhaps the moment of death, after the final breath, is a moment of understanding that could never be obtained in life because you finally understand that we are all just small beautiful people and nothing can change that, but the idea that we are so small is so very big because we think everything matters so very much but what we really need to understand is that a life is a letter in a never-ending fantasy series about how one little imperfection spawned a beautiful mess of hydrogen and oxygen and nitrogen and molecules and compounds that formed and bonded and created cells that created life.
Perhaps I am a rambling madman that knows nothing of the significance or insignificance of life.
Perhaps I have unheard insight into what may or may not be.
Perhaps we need to live and love and die as a people and not as a person.
Perhaps we need to feel every death as if it were our own.
Perhaps each one of us is united through sheer existence.
Perhaps.

Nobody Knows McQueen

Why do mad men,
act so happy,
what do bad men,
feel so good,

nobody knows,

why,
do you have to lose the sanity,
to find,
the genius,

nobody knows,

why,
do the brightest lights,
cast,
the darkest shadows,

nobody knows,

can’t have the beach,
without the ocean and the sand,
can’t have bliss,
without the pain,

what a paradox we are,
us this Human Species,
all us actors just acting sans practice,
in deafening silence commiting acts of violence peacefully,

in this repulsively attractive romantically tragic,
dramatic sci-fi thriller comedic fantasy,
where we rarely do what we say,
even though we all say what we mean,

constantly on a conquest to find Plato’s Atlantis,
expressing ourselves through our art like Alexander McQueen,
which makes sense in a way since we’re all dressed up with nowhere to go,
and even though that may be so we still wear our hearts on our sleeves,

half peasant have emperor,
have invented have inventor,
half daughter/son half mother/father,
half created have creator,

only hope is that this sadness somehow leads to a happily ever after,

once gone,
only that odor lingers,
is it cologne or perfume,
no one knows or cares it’s 2018 it doesn’t matter,

nothing matters,
even though it feels like everything does,
or maybe everything matters,
and nothing feels like it does,

I don’t know,
and I don’t know if I care,
don’t have the answers,
and if I did I probably wouldn’t share,

or maybe I would,
and I’d do so through these words,
like a man stranded on an island with a universe full of knowledge,
sending these messages in these bottles as my parting gift to this world,

see we’re all on our way,
so have some fun before you go,
is there life after death,
maybe not maybe so nobody knows,

why do mad men,
act so happy,
what do bad men,
feel so good,

nobody knows…

∆ LaLux ∆

in this drunken madness
called "the world"
let's stop for a while
look into mirror
reflect upon ourselves
and ask the same old questions

what does all of this supposed to mean?
what is purpose of all this?
where did I come from?
where am I headed?

© Ali Ashraf

(tw; abandonment)

How long has it been?

So long that the number escapes me,
long enough that I've forgotten the last time I saw you,
face to face, spoke to you,
long enough that sometimes,
I forget what you look like,
how your voice sounds.

Have you changed since we last spoke?

It's not often, but on occasion,
you slip into my subconscious,
and I remember you vividly,
like it was just yesterday that I saw you,
when in reality, it's been... years.
Once, I dreamed that you hugged me.
I miss that feeling,
I miss the enveloping warmth,
the feeling of love I used to get when I was around you.

Do you dream about me?

I graduated from high school this summer.
I never thought I would,
or that I even could, but I did.
You weren't there.
I looked out into the crowd of people,
of families.
I saw mine.
But the one person I was hopeful to see wasn't there.

When did you lose interest in me?

I still have your letters.
I avoid reading them,
but I remember the promises you made in them,
the assurance that you would change,
you would be a better you and love me like I deserved.
I found it hard to write back.
I didn't know what to say.
I was young, immature.
I had the words in my head,
but putting them on paper,
that was a whole other mountain to climb,
and even for one so young,
my arms were weak
from the mountains I had already scaled,
hands calloused,
damaged from the harsh edges of the life I lived.
It was too daunting.
But, still, I hoped you would stay true to your word.

Why did you lie to me?

All this time I've spent alone,
trying to fill the void you left behind,
with anything and anyone I had access to,
and I always end up more broken than I started.
It's hard to believe that anyone will ever love me
because you didn't.

Am I unworthy of your love?

There's so much I've wanted to say to you,
and even when I try to reach out,
you have nothing to say in reply
so much will be left unresolved,
because there's a good chance we will never speak again,
that one of us will die before we can sit down and talk,
like we haven't done in so long,
but if there was one last question I could ask you,
it would be...

Do you miss me, father?

If I were able to share with you truth
I would climb into your swirling thoughts
Between constellations forming questions
Draw answers to connect the dots.

I would  spell my reasons out in bold print
The "Hows", "Did yous", and "Whys"
Maybe then you could see they are more
Than tired excuses and alibis.

I'd pour my pain in honest ink
Into crevices of your brain
So you'd realize what betrayal feels like
Maybe my agony will leave a stain.

For how else do I make you see
How much I truly care?
I love you way too hard it seems
That's why I can't be there.

I'm bursting with opinions unspoken
Yet do not dare tell you how I really feel
Because that never seems to help us progress
Only strengthens our inability to heal.

I long to teach you how to grow
Or how to love yourself
But how could i possibly do that
When I do not even love myself?

Are we doomed to misunderstand?
I have enquired about this before before
In the end spin tragic circles
Never reaching peace we are searching for.

Hours pass by, brain dwelling
Answers tricky to find
Tired of chasing information not given
Lonelienss is pushing me out of my mind.

Do I love too quick I asked myself
as his lips pressed onto mine

Do I love him I asked myself
while losing myself in his eyes

Do I deserve his love I asked myself
after he left and I was alone again

Does he even love me I asked myself
when I wake up at night, laying in his arms

Do I even know what love is I asked myself
once I noticed I thought about him

Do I just need someone I asked myself
the moment I realised my mind drifted of to the past

Do I want to be loved I asked myself
until I noticed that I already knew the answer.