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I'll be right here
Or thereabouts
Have to fight fear
Endless bouts
Year after year
Who I am is denounced
The end is near
Shamelessly announced
The truths back there
A mute man shouts
Doesn't matter where
The blind will pounce
A future seer
Only raises doubts
The amounts one drowns in
Could be less than
A powder or liquid ounce

©2024
Us
In the cadence of a chai-stained dream,
Are you the spice that lingers, or a fleeting sugar high?
Will this yearning ripen into a love supreme,
Or fade like a forbidden beneath a starlit sky?

The ancient verses whisper on the wind, they say,
"Can even the Himalayas predict the monsoon's sway?"
A tempest of emotions, a monsoon in my heart,
Why this chasm between us, where two souls can't quite start?

You, a valley lush with melody, your voice a cascading stream,
And I, a concrete jungle yearning for a wilder theme.
Would you bloom in the chaos, this urban symphony?
For I confess, my darling, I am a creature of dependency.

In hushed tones, beneath the city's gentle hum,
I crave the rhythm of your being, a thrum against my own drum.
Let our bodies be the bridge, hearts whispering in the near,
For in this closeness, darling, all distance disappears.
I was born to be alone..
As you weren’t there
for all my panic attacks
when I sent you a message
that I needed you right now
as my hands were shivering
to the point that I couldn't yearn for help,
when the doctor was the only one
who patted my shoulder and said;
It's okay, you are safe now…
When I saw a semi-reflection of my parents
through your soul….
Well, I’m here, fighting demons,
As it’s Thursday,
and you didn’t come home.
I know I should do better
and ignore this intense fear of mine.
I should yearn for something else
rather than the idea of
your colorful permanent settlement
in my black-and-white corners.
I belong to the first place
where we used to overdose on dreams,
ones you've since forgotten.
I persist in being yours,
despite the challenges we face today.
Happy birthday to you.
The shattered words I've held onto
remain yours,
whether I can articulate them or not.
Today,
I comprehend the weight
of punitive silence,
and thus,
it transforms into a blessing in my life.
No one would impose it upon me
before it morphs into their fear of
losing me in the first place.
Happy Birthday
Sand witches, solar sisters, they are the
west coast in this part of the cosmos,
tied to the hip with American thighs
and Brazilian otherwise, donning
catamaran bottoms the color of
red liquorice and snuggly
they sit at their
international
dateline
as if by
magic
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