A faultless poem
inkless, without erasures
written in fixed glances
in agreement
a matchless pact

Each verse, a touch
a breath, a gaze

suddenly, their storm
unleashed
ink runs intense
crimson hearts bleed
bodies collapse

their surrender writes an end
a kiss
their thirst, a perpetual desire
to rewrite with fault
they call it a draft
and find a blank page

mid-afternoon sunrays beam
against the blanketed city snow,
your miles away this December
wishing on the same falling stars.

Saturday trains murmur dusk-cascaded gleam
you're across the Atlantic shore
seasonal depression combating
last-second windswept bliss

unfinished song-writes seem
inkless on half-folded paper airplanes
for hidden chances and empty truths
lone twilight in streetlights mold

Cupid wanders, willows weep,
Shadows of the wind creep,
Swing a silver cradle with
Grove of the leafless trees,
Below muslin veil moon
Smiles like a childish loon,
Dandelion stole my dreams,
She was mine how I wish...

You always say that you're not good enough
But little do you know
You've always been more than enough
and always will be

At this moment,
and being in this small hut,
I stay alone; holding
a torn-out paper;
an inkless, broken pen,
You alone can figure out,
my outlook ; my aspirations;
The truth I hunt for,
you always state
the set of laws that bind on me,
I do bend and kneel down;
My wrecked heart is yours to restore;
my tribute, only you to guard.
On you, alone, I can depend;
my sweetheart is not you at all;
but  my colorless paper;
my meaningless verse;
my broken pen.
*
BY
WILLIAMSJI MAVELI

I have all these memories of you.
All these memories and I don't know where to put them down.
I have memories back before anything happened.
The way you were shorter than me until middle school.
The way you made my heart race.
I remember telling her about my heart not staying still.
And how a few weeks later you two held hands like my words meant nothing.
(have they ever meant anything)

I remember how good I felt when you laughed at something I said.
Or just at me in general.
I don't remember feeling bad at you making fun of me.
I just liked your attention.

I will never forget the way your feet felt
colliding with my shins in the hallway at school
your fist punching into my stomach.
Everyone saw.
Nobody acted.
I was fifteen.
I will never forget my mother's face when I showed her the bruises.
I couldn't hide them that time because I was limping.
It was like she had failed as a parent.
She had no idea how wrong she was.
(she was great she still is I don't tell her enough)

I remember how two years after that day you told me you loved me.
Will never forget how much of an idiot I was to believe you.
But you were the first, that I remember.
I would have done anything for you.
(sometimes I wake up thinking I still will it's been eight years this has to end)

I remember saying no the first time we slept together
Remember you whispering to me,
"she'll never find out"
"she means nothing to me"
"you know you'll like it"
"i love you i love you i love you"
And I blossomed like a flower the first day of spring
But that doesn't mean it wasn't ****.
I'll never forget the first time I thought that
I thought my lungs were falling out and I cried for hours
(I still don't know what it was but it makes me feel gross)

I remember how once we started dating
I assumed it would get better, I trusted you so much.
We were best friends, of course this was going to work.
I remember how my face stings after it's slapped.
I remember how your hands feel caressing my back when I'm sick.
I remember how your fingers felt pressed into my throat.
I remember the excuses.
"i bumped into something"
"it's not too warm for long sleeves"
"i'm just trying scarves for a look"
I was seventeen.

These are adult issues that no one should have to deal with
But I was
Too young
Too unprepared
Too gullible
Too scared
School doesn't teach you how to act when the abuse is suddenly
knocking at your door.
When you know you need to leave
But you're so into only him it's like you have no one else.
(he's the only person I talked to for two years)

It's been eight years
I still remember everything.
I need to put these memories down.
On a shelf, in a junk door behind the inkless pens.
In the ******* trash.
I feel like I'm not growing because these memories are
Clawing at my central nervous system
freezing me any time someone is too close.
I wish I didn't remember you.

Full blooded they appear
Speaking with my voice, the words I say
Those dreams, the dreams of the dead
Seem so satisfying, until they talk.
They, the phantoms of our fantasies
Drift like jet trails; scarring skies
Words etched by inkless pens
Waiting, always awaiting.
The Poet adores that void
Where they frame their thoughts by the stars
And recreate Byzantium
But behind that void
Awaiting, always waiting
There are echoes
Who can only answer us, as us.

blank pages and crumbled papers
i scribbled down then throw it later
inkless pen and broken proses
tragic poetries like thorns of roses
caged in darkness
chained by sadness
i have no tears left to cry
i'm gonna take a break,
g o o d b y e