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Learn to swim
through the waves of your grief.
I read a book,
On the first page in bold was written:
COME LET US UNDERSTAND WHAT IS LOVE.
I came to the last page,
It ended with:
Nobody really understands what is love,
If you understand what is love,
IT IS NOT LOVE.
I am still wondering........
On my way,
One day,
I met a handsome guy,
Who was on the seventh sky,
He told me I looked like a ****** ***!!!
& with his sayings I was embraced
I cried & went to the mirror,
I asked,"Do I look good???
  Am I too fatty or too slimmer??? "
Laughing at me it didn't answer,
I understood & was filled with tear,
Oh I didn't eat during day
& couldn't sleep in night,
It was like I wasn't made for this beautiful beauty filled site,
& hiding my face I went out, & stood aside...
I looked at the moon,
Jealous of his beauty I closed myself in my room...
I forgot the incident & was lost in the world of books,
No I wasn't at all focussing on my looks,
Oh after bending over backward for several months,
I got the fruitful results,
Now that handsome proud guy saluted me,
& the mirror couldn't match his eyes from me,
& now I stood in front of moon's fake light,
Asking it to ignite itself,
& be bright,
Else at his place, he will see myself!!!
Looks seriously don't matter, the thing that matters is one's hardworking, & one's attitude towards life!!!
& beauty isn't in one's face, but it's in one's heart, & one's behaviour!!!
She was beautiful,
Soft as a snowflake,
That triggered an avalanche of love emotions in  me.
The beat of my heart became a roar, a crash a crack,
The thunderous sound echoing off the walls of my heart was awesome and frightening,
I was lovestruck.
Love words dripped from me,
I became a poet.
I am a hijab,
A piece of soft cloth,
firmly and gracefully pinned around her head,
Covering her hair,ears and neck,
not her face.
I am a fabric in different colours,
most commonly  in black or white.
I am her safe guard,
Against the harsh sun and wind,
Unwanted men's glares,
Their sneers and harsh words,
Her beauty, pride and soul within.
For her,I command respect,
Make unknown men keep their distance.
I give her a symbol of purity and piety,
Together with serenity in her eyes.
Because of me she is not oppressed,
She is as free as a bird,
To soar over mountains,cross oceans,play sports of her choice and achieve the best education.
She enjoys life but by having me around her she pleases Allah too.
Hijab is not a symbol of oppression as is the belief but it gives a lady an identity of her own.
 Sep 2018 Suhas Ghoke
savvy
Seven
 Sep 2018 Suhas Ghoke
savvy
"Promise" has 7 letters.

So does:
"Moved on"

But, I have a 7 letter promise to you:
"I'll wait"
Seven is my lucky number. I hope this promise will be lucky enough to be true.
 Sep 2018 Suhas Ghoke
Katelynn
You told me today,
That you wanted to die.
I could tell in your voice,
That it wasn’t a lie.

I never noticed till now,
Of how you fidgeted more.
I never noticed till now,
Of the sweaters you now wore.

But I did noticed now,
How your skin seemed pailer,
How your eyes darker.
Have you been eating?
Have you even been sleeping?

But when you told me,
I finally saw.
The darkness that surrounds you.
When did you start to fall?

Why didn’t I noticed,
That your smile missed your eyes.
Why didn’t I noticed,
That your voice told such lies.

If I had noticed sooner,
Would this had ever happened.
If I had noticed sooner,
Would you had never saddened.

I screamed for you,
Wanting it to not be true,
I cried for you,
Though I didn’t have a clue.

I waited for you,
For you to react,
But the mirror stayed still,
My image intact.
Though this poem is in depth about me, I have in the past, and have seen others struggle with suicidal tendencies. I hope that anyone going through this will reach out to others because you are worth it and you deserve to be here. The suicide hotline is 1-800-273-8255, please contact this if you need help, because you deserve to have help.
Red.
The color of sunlight through eyelids,
Morning clouds before a storm,
Frosted rosebuds and Eve's fruits forbid.
Red.
The color of cheeks flushed,
Falling hearts like autumn leaves,
Wax seal of love notes all covered in dust.
Red.
The color of cherry juice on pale lips,
Soft tongues burnt by bitter coffee,
Blurry traffic lights and cold finger tips.
Red.
The color of beating skin,
Tender hearts rubbed raw,
Silk on curves and a moaning violin.
Red.
The color of freshly stained sheets,
Blood red sun dripping down her skin,
The holy place where her thighs meet.
Red.
The color of dim firelight as eyelids close,
Limbs of lovers intertwine in gold,
And now the color of my words, I suppose.
Red.
My favorite color.
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