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At The Cafe
I heard her say to the teary-eyed lady
as they sliced their custard creams,
" Move on and go find someone else"
As if suggesting to take that knife and slice
that face out of her brain and replace it with
another. As if perhaps she should cut out
her heart and separate it from the rest of
her. I suppose the thoughtless lady was only
trying to help. I suppose that's normal procedure
in such circumstances. Like quickly go find a
lollipop for god's sake.
I felt like saying to the broken woman;
wait a bit. No need to be in such a rush.
This terrible ache, this fierce wrenching
this oozing sore is love disguised.
You'll come to it. You will. No substitute
necessary.
That someone else is waiting
in the dim horizon, fresh faced and true
with eyes that pierce through
the mish mash of dough and syrup
of wounds and ruins of love and war
and sharp metal objects.
That someone else is you, whole
and undisguised.
You can't rush that.
You'll come to it
You will.
The sorrow of loss, breakup, the slow journey through the shadow into acceptance. Finding oneself in the midst of despair without trying to find a new fix.
Chandy Feb 2020
Cast to the river's depth
Punctured on prevalent pieces
Stone and flesh come to one
Commander has fallen
Leader’s reign comes to an end
Not by human hand
By chance
Roll fate’s dice
Taking up the mantle
Emotions soon dismantled
Feel like an imposter
Invading a title I never deserved
Everyone’s got their doubts
There are many routes
Down to the grave
Avoiding grief at all costs
Last time I led
Looked for bodies not men
Time taught me
Chance is the way of life
Brace the spirits of the men
Recognize the wishes of the women
“Welcome to paradise”
Who’s paradise is this?
Not one I pursue
Slung around wrists
Cold metal I was raised in
Leading brought me trouble
Now I end where I began
On the wrong side of life
Corrupted mind
Purified heart
It’s all I can muster
Fresh out of luster
Dream Fisher Dec 2019
We hide in the saddest places
Because no one looks there,
Under the stones that have been left alone
Never to be unturned, I've learned
Its better to never open the bottle
They'd rather I wallow in waste
Because that makes me convenient, that's fair.
I'm the substitute even in the stories I write
So why would any other have any other sight?
Isnt that right, Claire?

Its easy to dance like no one is watching
When you know no one is watching.
Where's the auction I turn back on my body
The auctioneer is stuck, no one's wanting
The ghosts populate my cranium space,
The poltergeists are not done haunting
I want to taste real emotion instead of taunting,
I'm just a host for a past still walking.

They ask for real answers but my written tongue
Can spread darkness like cancer,
Can give hope to the hopeless
But some don't know what hope is
Can give hope to the hopeless
But maybe you noticed, now I'm the hopeless
Sabila Siddiqui Jul 2019
Writers,
poets,
artists,
songwriters
bleed pain into art.

But don'y you understand
pain is not art.
They embellish pain,
to cement the heartache.
They craft darkness
hoping to enlighten.

But in the end,
agony is agony,
no matter how you express,
how you make it bleed.

Emotions from words,
on tear stained pages
captivate readers
making them believe there
is solace in darkness
and leave them forlorn to be adorned.

But their intention was not to
glamorize plan but rather to let it be
their outlet of expression,
therapy and to create.

In the end there is no substitute,
agony is agony,
grief is grief,
illness is illness
and that what it will be.
David Hutton Apr 2019
Affection for you I can't undo,
Adhered to you like a tattoo.
I'm a substitute, I know.
Hard for me to let-go.
Painful to dry the ink you dipped into.
Psychiatrist Eric Berne states in his book *** in Human Loving that "Some say that one-sided love is better than none, but like half a loaf of bread, it is likely to grow hard and moldy sooner."
Survived Sep 2018
Dont you worry little boy,
in the end
you will find
a substitute
for every **** thing.
Debanjana Saha Jul 2017
One after the other
I keep finding a substitute.
A substitute for love,
One by one they leave
To create a new mess
out of the old,
making me
colder to fold!

One by one
they venture into me,
a life to fulfill my dreams
A new dream I see,

To love each of them
Whether they stay or leave!**

10-06-2017
One after the other love venture into me,
a new dream to live
with open or closed eyes
depending on me!
Jayantee Khare Jul 2017
You were substituted with the words,
and I'm still writing.....
Writings are the best remedy to  productively fill up the voids in life...
K Balachandran Jun 2017
Away from the nicely lit place,
where guests chatted and giggled,
we sat face to face, in the after glow
of our smoldering new found love,
for quite a while,wondering within us,
how could emotional fireworks blow up
amidst prolonged pandemonium,like this?
Words to us, seemed quite out of place
I just gazed and gazed in to her eyes
she blushed,like a first time kisser.
A faint beam from a distance, made her
emotionally charged  face look all  aflame.
Her nostrils pretty attractive,perfect rings
looked flared,like an animal's,I noticed
that catches a scent, awaited for long;
seemed like she had an urgent need to express.
I had a guess, but her words were distracting,
"I love your fingers"she lisped, my index finger
on the right hand she started to pet,
"It's so enticing"she spoke as if
she substitutes a thing for one different.
as the compulsion was such.
Time stood still, in the middle,but that wasn't a hitch!
I remembered she had to leave, shortly
but the tide of our passions was flooding still,
so we created darkness at will around us.
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