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 Nov 2017 Razeena Bham
alex
when a boy shows you his hands
bare except for the dust
he’s begging you to look past
take them in yours.
squeeze them once.
twice.
say without speaking
that you understand that the valleys
in his palms were meant to cradle
shooting star wishes
that he’s allowed to still hope for.
when a boy shows you his eyes
of milk and crimson and melanin
a bloodshot vein for every night he can’t sleep
let him shut his eyelids.
say without speaking
that you understand that the black hole pinpricks
of his irises hold more than the universe
should allow.
when a boy shows you his soul
shivering but still working toward friction
iced over but still working toward melting
let him come to rest next to yours.
say without speaking
that you understand that he is lonely
and that his silence speaks volumes
and that you kept his treasure close
because you love him.
when a boy shows you his hands
show him your hands.
when a boy shows you his eyes
show him your eyes.
when a boy shows you his soul
show him that
this is a comfortable place to rest it.
when a boy shows you the hardness that shaped him
show him the softness
that you have in store.
k
I encircled her waist
with my hands and
lifted her, not as
a trophy, but
to  kiss.
 Sep 2017 Razeena Bham
g
wild youth
 Sep 2017 Razeena Bham
g
we are the wild youth.

with lungs full of ocean water and ribs stained red with sunsets and roses

we have lilacs and honey dripping from our frozen fingertips

with watermelon smiles and candle wax eyes, we pull at our star dusted skin

and howl to the moon.

and with heads full of midnight and our veins swimming in twilight,

we dream our big dreams and pull down the stars, begging for our wishes to

come true
thank you for the daily! im so thankful and in awe of all the lovely feedback, i cant thank you all enough
Let’s talk about relationships:
It’s like being more than friends, but not really a couple
It’s kinda like hooking up when he feels comfortable,
Or when he feels that he isn’t stressed,
But when he is it’s not a good time,
But that’s understandable because he's busy
Although you’re busy a lot
I think I understand how it works,
It’s really simple… I think…

So we become friends,
and I like you, and you don’t get it,
but I still go for you,
and then you get it,
but you didn’t say anything,
but then you feel like you like me,
but you’re not sure,
but now you are sure,
but I’m not suppose to know
so you keep it low key although for everyone else is high key,
but not really,
so then you smile and kiss me,
but never talked about it,
which is okay because you don’t do dating and neither do I,
so we flirt in silence so neither of us know that we like each other,
but we do,
but it’s not worth it because we hate drama, even though i have to change my pillows every night because I cry a little to much on them cause I don’t understand what’s happening,
but that’s okay because that’s really what a relationship is.

No, the words ‘I love you’ are forbidden because he might run away,
But so does your heart so you say it any way,
and he responds “really?”

And it feels like the words were slammed into your face,
Like a slap right were your lips and your cheeks meet when you smile at his presence,
The same spots he kissed you in valentines day,
And you worshiped that cheek like if it was a greek temple where his hand sometimes lived,
And you held it so it wouldn’t go away,
But it did, and that’s okay because that’s really what a relationship is.

Never mind, it’s not like that really,
Let’s talk about us,
How I wish you were still just a human to me,
I don’t want to look at you an see poetry,
Words that climb up to my mind and slide down my hands to make me write
about love,
How your features, that invade every drop of moisture inside my eyes, play Mary-Go-Around in my green iris as if I wasn’t dizzy enough with your complicated relationship status, am I part of that mess inside you?
Because I’m growing into a skin that I can’t fit in,
But I force myself to, because you are in there, somewhere,
Waiting to be loved and feel any chance of paramountcy, like the one you felt when your mother passed away,
You were three years old,
I thought you didn’t remember,
But you cry in silence when your finger tips play those black and white keys,
I sing for you to fall asleep so you could wake up to my love and my love only,
Because I know that that’s what you need,
without bragging or being selfish is the warmth you’re missing when the winter falls in mid October at a little town where nothing really happens but us.
But you never sang along,
And now I have a playlist of music that I can’t listen to because they all remind me of you,
But that’s okay, because that’s really what a relationship is.

I don't understand,
How you crave for knowledge and not love due to your tragic romantic story when you started high school, with someone that wasn’t as alive as I am over your skin,
But you can’t know so I won’t say it,
and shut myself,
which I am anyways,
because you can’t love back the same way I love forward and backwards and forward and backwards,
that’s how it feels when I try to force you to hold my hand but you make an uneasy expression,
Nevertheless you hold it anyways in the interest of my love,
That you had since a long time ago really,
when your blue eyes locked down my green eyes
Effecting your ocean drown my rainforest,
But I am still locked down

Because we were best friends,
But more than friends really,
We were not a couple,
It was a thing, that’s was the call it,
It was like hooking up when you felt comfortable,
Or when you weren’t stressed,
But when you were it was not a good time,
But that was understandable because you were busy,
And now you are always busy
And I think I understand how it works,
It’s really complicated,
How you never said it back or how you hold your feelings in a dark cage with a sign that read “coward"
but that’s okay, because that’s how our relationship was really.
We loved each other…

And now, I just love you.

SNS
Nov. 16, 2016
10:30pm
The three poems I have made private here are all about you.

It seems like everything about my opinion of you is some kind of private matter.

Honestly...

I still care about you.
I think you're amazing.

Maybe I still love you.
But not in the same way I used to.

I'm sorry I'm not worth all that much nowadays.

I just wanted you to know that I'm going into therapy soon.

Getting help.

After all.

You said I needed to "sort myself out".
Okay.

I've been through a lot of things that shouldn't have happened to good people like us.

Or maybe I was never that good person.

Who am I kidding?

You're not reading this.

Last time you did, things went wrong and now all those poems are private.

So.

I can't even muster up any courage to say "hi" in any situation.

So I won't.

Makes things easier.

Okay.

Sorry I didn't try harder.
Sorry I wasn't there.
Sorry I called you late at night.
Sorry I still remember the circus.
Sorry I still want to send you gifts for your birthday and Christmas.


I...

Sorry I didn't say anything the right way or even at the right time.

Anyways... talk later?

Or never I guess.

You'll be busy.

And I have a therapy session to go to.
Help.

— The End —