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Aman Dahiya Oct 4
I used to hum this song for you, do you remember?
That night when I heard you, my nightingale,
Alone in front of a crowd of thousands that September,
I stood up in joy, the only one cheering like an insane.
What was in your voice,
Erupting in flames,
It reached my heart,
And I found no water to calm it down.
But of course, you know all of this.
My question is : do you remember?
The glint in your eyes has disappeared,
I’m sorry but I check sometimes.
How far have you come?
Is it as far as me?
We started the journey together,
I hope you took the better road.
I still remember you sometimes.
My question is : do you remember me?
Aman Dahiya Sep 20
The sun was leaving the sky
with beautiful ‘orange' blushes.
We had a long, long road in front of us,
painted with green strokes of beautiful brushes.
Our two tiny figures
walked on and on;
My eyes were feeling her eyes,
her eyes were feeling mine,
Maybe never at the same moment,
but always at the right time.
We talked about many many things on our flight;
about literature and poetry,
about movies and design;
I don’t remember our words,
but I remember her moist beautiful eyes,
my thumping unsettled heart,
and her slightly quivered voice.
I remember how she looked back at me,
how her name spelled life;
and how her rosy lips curved back
into her milky white cheeks.

The sun was leaving the sky
with beautiful orange blushes;
the kind of orange which sparked
with our slightly brushing arms.
We talked about love,
and a little about hope;
but I have to admit
that our words were futile,
for what our eyes did under the dusking sunlight,
the words could only try.
But time has always been time,
for we reached a bus stand on the long, long road
and I knew she had to choose
the red bus home.

The sun was leaving the sky
with beautiful orange blushes;
the kind of orange which flames
over a burning wood;
and like wood did our moment burn,
turning greyer and greyer,
slowly blackening to ashes.
As she boarded the bus,
my hand waved a goodbye;
and I knew in that instant,
my sun had left my life
leaving me with beautiful orange blushes
and a dark, dark sky.
Sarah Aug 31
We're standing on the opposite shores of a sea made of our differences
And we have no ships to sail across
We lost our love amid that sea
And into its depth
Sank our story and our memories
We were no divers
No swimmers or sailors
We were simple people who were afraid of water
Afraid to leave the safety of the land
And that fear costed us each other
When an earthquack set the land apart
How I wished you could come
Cross a bridge made of love
Plant a kiss on my cheek
And wipe away the farewell tears
But you never did
Nor was I brave enough to do it myself
We should have built a ship
Or overcame our fears and learned to swim
But instead we decided to quit
It is not you to blame
And it is not me
It is just the big blue sea
A sea, and a whole lot of fear.
I was very hesitant about this one so I'd love to hear your opinions
Egeria Litha Aug 29
They gave me Life

then revealed it was a mistake

They left me to die

swore up and down

and side to side

they had the answer for my afterlife

so abandonment is justified

They cursed our names

repent to Jesus so he takes the blame

Reproduction in vain

Five beings floating in various locations

around the globe

a phantom family visits us at our dinner tables

Reminding us the consequence of being alone
The calm after the storm
The waters have stilled
Time for reflection
Time to be filled

Too much time for some
Weighing heavily on their hands
A novel thing but unwelcome
As they wish they had more plans

Time together
Dramatic and fraught
Sped by, yes,
But them it overwrought

Yet they yearn for this time
As separated they are bereft
Unable to live apart
Unable thus to rest

The solution elusive
The outcome unknown
What to do for the best?
Best leave them alone.
Interlaced with each and every word you speak is an unseen arrogance.
Patronizing statements that send anger coursing throughout my fingertips.
You flaunt your beauty,
You flaunt your age,
You flaunt everything you know I lack.
Then, you have the have the nerve to attack me for my failing self-image.
You attack my insecurities with your vanity.
Turning the mirror into an even more dastardly object.
Sophia I Jun 21
Me, Blue and the Suit, crammed into a little waiting room.
The acid green wallpaper peels away in large pieces, and everyone itches to rip bits off.
It blends in nicely with the screaming red tiles.
A canvas dirtied by cigarette smoke hangs in a crevice,
A sunset scene that goes seen and unseen.
Blue has mousy hair and coughs quietly to herself every now and again.  She wears a blue trench coat and fussy little high heels that click idly against the floor.
Suit checks his tacky watch and bounces on the ***** of his feet,
pinches his brow and yawns.
His hair is gelled back, spiky thorns, more like a member of a boy band than a businessman.
A window must be open, because a car alarm sounds outside,
startling at first. Briefly, everyone looks around at each other,
united in irritation and a strange sense of embarrassment.
Finally, it shuts off, and we return to our separate togetherness.
Inspired by the wonderful " The Lonely City" by Olivia Laing
Tøast May 4
How can he miss the moon, when she was snuffed out so long ago?
When her light burnt out and she crumbled into two,
Shining brighter in a different sky, than she ever could in mine.

Well my night-time walks will never be the same,
A paranoid insomniacs depressive escape, through anxious gaps in the galaxy, where we used to dance between stars and lay down on black holes.
Well now, it would seem, the night sky is nothing but darkness, where his heart may beat but his mind just hurts.
Azuraine Apr 7
You will heal in time they say
Minutes pass  
They pass into mass
I don’t want this time
Minutes take time
They steal space
I don’t want this time
Time heals all wounds they say
Minutes steal passion
They steal unity
I don’t want this time
Minutes are more painful than hours
More painful than days
More painful than weeks
Minutes are killing me
I don’t want this time
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