it’s 3:09am on thursday
another romcom novel
lies
in my
lap

racing through it as i read
the same kinds of stories
yes, i know the ending, because

i need the
happy
ever
all-the-things

i guess i am no better
since i am a sucker for all the sap

i zip past the plotted out pain
skim through the lines
and find the ink-to-page artifice of love

it’s not real, yes, but
fills an ache-
(though never truly really fills)

of what you left behind
and how you’ve ruined me
at best

the dopamine
or cathartic thrill
dies down by the very last

but i always pick
back up these books
knowing my HEA is coming

   just
       around
         the
    bend

do i still believe it’s coming?

is happily really
meant for
me?

or is it just for the select few?

i revived this space
and came back
really just to say-

i heard you kissed
another girl
the night before
your wedding day

If you say you love flowers,
I’ll fill this whole world’s ground with blooms.
If you say you love books,
I’ll build you a castle made of libraries.
If you say you love night,
I’ll destroy the sun.
If you say you love chocolate,
I’ll craft a palace out of chocolate bricks.

But why can’t you just say —
“I love you”?

nope.
an amalgmator, consolidator, a sifter,
a synthesizer, combinator, employer
of words

collect, analyze, repair, modify,
discern the overlapping, intersecting rhythms, the tools,

Drip from my lips, fall from of my grip, from my eyes, salty drip,
and I nail them to my bones,


herein lies my originality....
The millions upon millions of permutations combinations and iterations
That resolved themselves from the madness of my mind, are then attached to my living bones, inseparable, and my living mark of once existence

The night arrives
And my sins
Get lost between the shadows
Feeling less shame
Walking home late
Leaving all behind
Darkness makes me blind
At the mirror, i look
A Little girl smiles
And then i remember
How innocent I was

By Yasmin.Sh

She was not even there
But he was still looking
Love in his eyes dry
And the gaze burns all the town

She was on the hills
Walking out of her grave
Burning town warms her hands
From Where did this fire started ?

They were foredoom to die
By the hands of the lover
And it was her destiny
To be cold even near the fire

By Yasmin.Sh🌻

Your smile is where sunrise sings,
Secrets of soft gold.

Break the night with silent grace,
And sculpt the light on her face.

A heat breeze, such a soft silence,
The world feels young when she smiled.

No poet pen, without the painter's tone,
I could hold the brightness that her lips let go.

And when she smiles, the stars lean closely -
Because even they should stop and hear.

He came into this beautifully,
broken world.
He made no sound,
just listened to his feet
as the voices of a familiar
home he had found
hummed to each other.

A soul intertwined with generations of stories,
threaded wounds he had never asked for.
Weight so heavy on the shoulders,
He mistook his riches for poor.

They gave him their shadows -
and their scars, too.
A young boy
with stories of his own to carry,
searching for love in all,
With many secrets to bury.

One day, he came to me.
One of the loveliest humans
I had ever seen.
A door left open, it seems -
just for me.

In his heavy life,
One he carries alone -
he found some room,
to hold love for me.
And I became
his familiar home.

I feel her calling out to me.
From the depths of my brain.
Her face I can no longer see,
And it fills me with such pain.

     She is clothed in beauty and splendor,
Filling me with curiosity.
Her silky hands, I do remember,
Would always embrace me.

     She wears a cloud of wonder,
And it goes where she goes.
Until that day of thunder,
When we reach the end of the road.

     I remember how she’d softly sing,
Her melodies hold me tight.
Wrapping me with warmth,
Through all the lonely nights.

     I feel her still here with me,
Though her face is now just a memory.
Yet, I still long to see,
Everything that she used to be.

     I want to pull her back to me,
And keep her there forever.


     But I can’t.