once upon a stolen time
skies swore love to the earth
in a sight where all flew past
the splendor of a sailing romance

a passion so pristine

ever gentle as morning dew
which surrenders to the first rays
of a yawning sun toddling into
the laziest hour of day's fabric

when hope glittered as stars

and as formless light of souls relieved to be
strewn into the lap of merciful
enchantress content with her creation
whose world shone inspired on its own

an era where people breathed felicity

where foamy seas bent into a restless
swell of dreamy clouds
and smiling rainbows melted into perfume
drops of silver rain

when a grand pearl was born

the child of deepest seas
a gleaming myth so pure and unreal
born in nethers of the grand ocean
a spheric orb of life itself

whom the heavens embraced

as a savior of those lost within
the fading embers of abstraction
frolicking amidst solemn tranquil stars
shiny bright on the celestial parapet

the mortals named her moon

and furnished their barren lives with
colorless spread of her golden hair
traced along the milky laugh of joy
kissing tender skins of lovers asleep

but pinched upon by shores of neglect

lay the boiling heart of a forgotten god
leaning into the envious whispers of venomous deceit
sprung out of flaming ego of the great sun
overpowered by hate for his adversary

and the grand ocean who birthed her

so he raged upon like a nebulous explosion
drying up colossal seas and rivulets alike
while mortals bore the brunt of a deity
beneath all fiery blunders of infernal damnation

they all gazed in horror

to what became of once cerulean infinite ocean
now a volatile geyser of bloodied soup
a serene cradle of life incinerated by jealousy
amidst the dying cries of mercy

laid upon the ears of great mother

who rushed to her frightened children like
an avalanche of uplifting spells
as solace from the obliviating torrents of heat
above a crumbling earth

veiled in her merciful majesty

she called upon a parliament of beasts and men
starry denizens of the shivery black sky
ghostly natives of burning forests
restless roses of ashen hearts

as so were they all summoned

"for all ye did defile
with strength i lend to thee
reduce to shadow dust
spread thy cruelty
dispel a coat of fire
upon my hallowed sea
betray the rule of stars
but so mercilessly

for 'gainst the eye of war
ye sinned with hateful fright
and shall be doomed to hell
till life's last surmise
but if there be some more
ye need to speak awhile
speak aloud thee must
for this be thy time"

and so the mighty sun bared his heart

"for if i had a choice
sin i shall again
to breathe a demon's soul
engrossed with deathly pain

as when i saw her first
the light of purest love
allure of million songs
beaming anthems of

poetry set in sight
in fountains of her sleep
amid the faintest wish
of day we two shall meet

i ran and ran across
the length of starlit skies
in search of moon again
her burnished sheeny smile

only to learn the sea
would mask her in the day
in frigid soundless depths
until i fade away

spiralled across the space
i burnt to nothingness
a billion years in wait
perished to longingness

for choice was what i had
i chose to hate the world
one that does have no heart
one that does know no love

for if i had a choice
sin i shall again
just as the ocean sinned
and bring my soul this pain"

seeking out for the shattered cascades of his mind

the great mother did reach to the floundering soul
of a sun craving for one more sight of his beloved
all so distant as a tale of treasures lost
to the perpetual labyrinth of time

"of what shall thus be named
the blush of myriad glows
beneath the noble day
before the nights of pure

let there be a spell
where sun may see the moon
chisel his heart through clouds
scroll upon his tune

a time where them two shall
be one as dew and morn
ripple across as love
through dusky silhouettes long"

sweet scents of eager hope resurfaced

followed by the serene lush of a green symphony once more
while the sun bent down to touch the topaz glint of water
his beloved emerged riding upon whistling winds from east
once more piercing the restless swell of dreamy clouds

and just as day sank below a border of horizon
two lovers soared into the dreamy sight of each other
for hues of their daring glances tinge every twilight
again with a dream to have their love fulfilled

every day until the end of time.

My mother and her mother,
(four generations of mothers to be exact)
All conceived children They didn't want,
because They couldn't bear the alternative.

My sister and I are the only two who survived.
The intergenerational resentment
that is cast among each woman in our family
who decides to carry the burden of their unwanted child.

My mother loves us as much as she is capable-
Just like her mother and mothers mother before her.

Birthed into four generations of hurt,
that longed for acceptance and love that only a mother could give.
But each mother couldn't.

It took four generations of women and their pain
and longingness for love,
to create two women who are full of nothing but love
and are hungry to give it to the world

(we forgive you, because it's all you've known)

He is your own brand of ******.
You long to inject his love into your veins,
to feel the rush of happiness go straight to your brain.
You become addicted and you crave more,
the dosage increases.
But then it wears off and reality slaps you in the face,
he will never love you.
So you take another hit and forget for a while.
Until one day you overdose,
and now you watch over him ,
like the way you longed for him to do for you.

It's those who burn
in the fire of separation
have come to learn
that in this desperation
true love lies
for the distance means nothing
if the hearts are intertwined.

Pieces of a woman
Gloom, glee, distance and intimacy
Attitude, gratitude, strength and vulnerability
Heartbreaks, Happiness, Longingness and poetry
Calmness, boldness and a bad *** stree.

Pieces of a woman
Stretch Marks, cellulite, miscarriages and then bossy
Shallow, Intense, blur and then some glossy
Cute, cheerful, lazy, sane and naughty
Benevolent, bizarre, shy and much hotty

Pieces of a woman
Family, friends, kin, acquaintances
Risk, safe and then out of the world chances
Society, sub-urb,rural and them glances
Some music, some writing, some shying and couple dances

Pieces of a woman
Marriage, adoption, career and grace
Clarity,focus,concentration and haze
Red,green, black, purple and beige
Independence, freedom, self-doubt and cage

All this and endless…..
And then some and then some
Nothing can totally define
The ultimate human
The beautiful, the wonderful
Pieces of a woman.

i have this longingness,
tugging at my soul and soles.

they're wearing out as i sit motionless.

my free spirit continues to be soft spoken,
reminding me of unfulfilled hornyness during teen years.

******* through time,
i will be on the road parallel to crime.

unlike here and now.

i look forward to the day this is the recent past,
for i will be on the ultimate move.

What a flim it is?
Just mindblowing

Sublime
Sublime
And sublime

The Extreme love
The Extreme Care
The Extreme Kindness

The years of Longingness
Vanished With in a second

Extermed Psunami
Brought out exteremed emotion

Just thought
To hold My papa
And mama
And To die next second..

But just had a responsiblity
And soon WILL I..

I have intentionally tried to fill the hole inside myself that your smile holds, my sweetest Angel. For that, I am ashamed. But there has been only the feeling of emptiness residing in that cavern since last I looked upon your smiling face and held you close to my heart.
The sun has risen and set, the seas have ebbed and flowed, the winds have blown, hither and yon. Yet, still I stand, unmoving through all of it, for the pain of not having your tiny hand in mine has left me cold, battered by the waves and fossilized by the sands carried upon the winds.
My eyes have withered from too many unhappy tears and nowhere near enough tears of joy, made all the more optically diuretic by my inability to look upon your face as you run and play and sleep and dream.
I am sorry, my truest of Loves, my Only, that I have chosen to ignore these feelings of longingness for so long. I could touch the pen to paper a million times, writing odes to your face and sonnets to your smile, but the distance that I feel has forced me to lull my heart into a coma. I have intentionally medicated my heart in an attempt to stop feeling (to stop all feeling), yet I cannot.
I feel the sunshine on my face and I pine to see the sun’s rays dwarfed by the radiance of your dwarven smile.
I feel my heart hang so low and wish against hope that I could pick you up while you raise me.
My soul cries out to replace you, yet my heart is merely attempting to survive. My soul screams for only you and the chance (nay, privilege) to shield you from the fears that cause you to scream in the middle of the night.
Why have I chosen to harden my heart, my Love? Why have I allowed myself to stifle my screams, when in all truthfulness, I only dream of easing your own?

She really wants him to be her lover but the deity decided to set a game of love where two souls were born almost at the same time but in a different place. Thus, their love story remains unknown to the both of them.

She doesn’t really know what she looks for in a man but her heart aches for someone she doesn’t even know.

He reminds her of the cherry blossoms in spring when she started falling for him. He reminds her of the rain and how it falls down just like how her tears would. He reminds her of a sad love song just like their sad love story. It’s like he’s actually there but she’s unable to touch him.

She knows she can just find another man to begin her love story with; someone she knows, verily. But the feeling won’t be the same.

She can’t seem to fathom why she loves that particular feeling of loving someone unknown even though it pains her. Indeed, she’s trapped by the love she has, only she doesn't want to break free.

How astonishing it is that an unknown man is capable of making her feel that way ― that no man she knows had made her feel.

She wants to find him and end her longingness but she doesn’t know how.

Even if she walks his street, they’ll less likely meet. It doesn’t happen easily. They’re not in the movies. She doesn’t even know who is she looking for. All she knows is that he’s there when spring comes, when the rain falls and when a sad love song starts to play.

Still, she’s uncertain if she will ever meet that man but maybe... that’s how the deity wants their game of love to be ― to remain unknown.

But no, she won’t lose to the deity’s game. She will find him and she will end the game. Their love will bloom in a different season. And he will no longer remind her of the rain and the sad love songs. He will no longer be someone unknown and they can finally begin their love story.

That, she promised.

I still feel all the vigors
And my mind is still sore
But my heart is too frail
To feel anything

I still hear voices at night
Or maybe it is just the sound
Of your voice
Sweetly calling my name

I still feel those chills
Or maybe it is just the longingness
Between the spaces
Of my fingers

I still look at my walls
As if my sight can strike against it
So steady and deep
With the sharp thoughts I have

I cannot tell  what it is
But if there is something
That makes it hard for one to breathe
That is exactly it

We all get it
Hangovers
And the worst ones you get
Comes *when you love

When it's in the air
you'll not know what it
is at first, but once you
smell it once you never
forget

It lingers there as you walk
through it, hanging
in the air as prokaryotic
pill shaped molecules

It always smells different
but the symptoms are
as follows

words stuck in the back
of your throat,
sweaty palms and shortness
of breath
a sense of longingness
juxtaposed
with a sense of fear

An overwhelming need
to communicate all the
new thoughts on your
stone written findings
of what we need to survive

Don't be alarmed, or rush
off to the doctor thinking

"There is something wrong
with me"

We all breathe this in,
multiple times in our lives,

Love's pathogens have a way,
of infiltrating our senses and
controlling our thoughts and
actions like our physical bodies
are more of a third party parasite
to what our souls need
to feed on.

So don't choke on your words,
reach out with dry hands for hers,
the fear will always be there,
because that's love
and this is how we react
when it is in
the air.

Gabriel asked the Prophet
'read', prophet who God crowned with a prophethood
of being last
replied 'I cannot read'
Prophet wrapped himself with a warm blanket
Khadija the prophet's true love said
You are God's chosen one
since you are all sincere, honest
and never do wrong to His people.

this, what is wrong with today's people
never seeking to learn
or read
knowing they know everything.
so they can **** anyone
in the name of God
they **** innocent people
and yet, the response is
'we **** infidel's
who are the infidels?
You and i are not God
It is for the God to decide
who's the most kind of all

The Sunni Muslims have a story to tell they're better than shia Muslims
and shia' have defensive tale to say, 'they are less honored one'
it's all politicized matters
not the religion
the crusades of islam is not about religion
but the gaining of power
who's going to lead after the Prophet's  death?

even the prophet himself narrated 'he's mere human being
who God blessed with might

God says, love thee people
as I love you the best
I'm closest to you, even more closer to your own heartbeat
no other will love you, as i how love you

I felt the longingness
this hunger, and the strike to do well in life
even though, i no longer am with people
who i thought to be my people
it feels so odd and out of place
most of the time
since i can't begin to tell
how truly i feel

i learned to unlearn
my roots, and inheritance
how hard it is, to defy
what you knew for your entire life

I learned to be with people, without needing them
and saying, 'goodbye's, when I didn't want to
since nothing is real
nobody is here for real
only the matters, and interactions with each other
will define
the true identities of us

it doesn't hold true to people, who share Islamic faith
but, the Christianity, Hinduism, or Judaism
or another religion
in any other region of the world

As of my utterance, i don't trust people with establishments
and people, running the show

In Pakistan, the land where i was born
nobody cares for anyone, whether they leave
or stay
even if somebody dies
people stay inhumane, insensitive about most of the things
but the focus is too much on religion
even the moral conduct
is not so right

At the edge of my state, when i utter this i feel erked
and awkward
low in spirits or perhaps
i don't feel anything, at all.

When the Abraham was asked to 'sacrifice'
his beloved son, 'Ismail'
he without defying
obliged to Gods will
God, in his dutiful obedience
replace Ismail with a lamb
to fulfill the traditions, Muslims each year
follow the Abrahams traditions
when people slaughter million of animals
in name of God which has merely became a mockery
of 'sacrifice'

The day i left my house, i felt truly abandon
and so, the time when i left my friend's house
who i visited only before leaving
I thought to myself, this will never be filled
and it didn't
even after many years afterward
I stand in my nomadic spirit
without owning anything
or have anything in mind, to occupy anything

This world, as i see
is a mere transition period
where we meet people
of all race, and kinds
from all regions , and faith
but it doesn't give us any upper or lower hand
to justify anything, whatever we feel
or think.

As it is not for me to decide
or others to judge,
by other people's religion, or region
color, race, kind

There is no place in Quran that says, hate people
from other religion
nor it says, to defend your faith
when people attack you.
The rising Islamphobia and hatred
for the muslims,
in response, all the muslims could say,
'Islam is a religion of peace'
a defensive approach, again and again
not wiling to understand
it's not for you to defend your religion
your faith doesn't need you, it's you, who needs it
for your own purity, to perserve the innocence
and the feeling for others
when others fail to do

God says, 'Surely there are signs in this
for those of you who would reflect'
to me, its a comforting zone
I derive my pleasure in this
but there are so many people out there, interpreting the verses
in their own perspectives.

Upon the reasons, i feel it's necessary to challenge yourself
your mind, your readings
learnings
inheritances
wisdom and all the knowledge you acquired over the years

we don't acquire knowledge in order to boost
but to be better,
and to understand the reasons

I was named by the 'Moons light, that means moonlight which is poetic
and referred as 'beautiful'
I am not sure who named me, as i remember my childhood
a very quiet, deserted and lonely one
it wasn't tragic but disturbed


I have erased my memory and the corners of heart, that used to feel mighty heavy
for so many things
the betrayals, insincere
and lack of resistance shown by people
i left everything behind me

When Ishaq's sons took Yusuf
he cried most of his times, till the point
he lost his sight which he regained by seeing Yusuf's
he was betrayed by his own brothers
only to gain their father's attention
they tricked Yusuf
which he survived regardless

the betrayals are hard to forgive or even remove
and the cultural hindrances, resistant obstacles

it's been a while since i felt home
anywhere
and even when I'm home
i feel the distant memory of my own self
which was innocent

I'm Mahwish, and it means 'beautiful like moonlight
my life will reflect the meaning of my name, someday
and till then
I continue to live.

If you let me explore
you with my rougish tongue,
through your cavities
and my carnalities,
to the stark nakedness
of your flesh and your soul,
and you’d let me have
a piece of your beautiful
beautiful mind,
I would enmesh it with
my own broken
and ****** soul.
We would be one,
heartbeats in sync,
and fingerprints, and the
panorama of memories would
bind themselves in order
to be a creature, as one,
whose enigma permeates
through the walls of this
inexplicable phenomenon. You
will satisfy the longingness
yearned by each atom that
constitutes my being, and I,
a speck of invisible stardust
in the universe, would
radiate the faintest glimmer
of light enough to suffice
the life you need.

.

Midday sweeps in
a bronzing fury,

prickling its way
through skin,

pierces the core
to bleed

then, drenched
in affectation,

I turn away
to rest.

I will swathe
some lotion after,

for the scent
of longingness

follows.
A bath awaits.

After nearly forgetting your face
I crave nothing but to study it
respect my wishes
and my longingness for affection
I pray my face be more radiant
with warm rose light
than cold blue
artificial glows

after such absence
you remember who I am
the map of my anatomy is built into your brain
and the nerve endings are excited
spinal cord reminiscence
awake my dusty adrenal glands

but as soon as breathing changes
sadly we are interrupted
an uncomfortable force
lumbering awkwardly
rests at the bedside

we hadn’t kissed in three weeks
today is no different

To the east
To the sundered east
Of the deserted Isle
Their lies a wrack
black timbered bones
Scold clinging clams
That harbour there
In the Wrack of the Isle
As she lies down

They say
In hushed wispers
it happened
Many years ago
Men died
Or so they say
But now, no one really knows
It's all been forgotten now
Through foggy years of
Sun and Snow
And dirth the man
Who can name her

The wrack rises
To the waters
To greet the
High airs above
The darlking deep beneath
Where once there was a love
Who can say, now
When looking at the wrack
In its black longingness
That once, it was a brightened
Vessel, fine and new
Filled with laughter
And simple joys

They dive there sometimes
When the tides allow
But divers have to be wary
It's dangerous near
Wrack waters, so easy
To be pulled down and
Within, you go
And once in her shell
The air can not sustain
You, for it is
Not for breathing
Creatures

Remember the shore
They tell
The newcomers
You must remember
Where it is
To the west you
Must go, and so on....
But carefully,
The wrack will
Call at you
Softly, and slow
Breathing liquid fumes
That fill the lungs
And crush the ribs

I swam round her once
It was a heady -
Experience, all shoreline
Was forgotten
I was lured by her
Cracked spars and
Speckled beams
So beautiful
Beneath a shining sea

But I learned there
That no man may
Swim the wrack
Forever, and not forget
Deep death there awaits
And lies down
With you
In a wet grave
So be forwarned
Before you swim
The wrack of the Isle
To the East
The sundered East.

as human beings and consumers, we often seek for contentment
as seekers, we search for satisfaction to fill in missing parts of us we think we need
as lovers, we seek for attention, longingness and to be far off from the void
we search for what is relevant enough to be the food of our soul, and as we consume we are never satisfied
so we seek for satisfaction, wanting more
and with hands full, a heart pouring out of selflessness, we destroy ourselves
as we fall in love, we fall apart
giving and offering missing puzzle pieces that exist within us
as we gradually become into nothing, we feed off of others, consuming whatever it is they have left
we accept their love, and they, our flaws
aware that we are only body parts that are reconnecting
as we heal, we occupy their vacancies, filling in missing parts that have been hollow for too long
we become their musings, their vertebrae of support
they become our sanctuary and our hope
they become the memories that look into the future
instead of the mistakes that shaped who we are

n.j.

1. The seconds roll by and you're starting to realize that you are becoming wearily accustomed to this way of living- the way where you are so obsessed with emotions,now that you do not feel them, that you are surrounding yourself with accidents. Almost as if you want to be in the same area you were at before you crashed and burned, by re-instituting an old lie you thought could never be accounted for, and crashing and burning a second time- all in the exact same places.
You've started changing and merging so much that you're sure you've left everyone without them even knowing it. As if you move with stealth whenever someone starts to realize just how tragic you can be- how you don't really need to feel to make others weary, you just have to be there. Your existence is enough.
Maybe that's why nobody really knows you, it's like being a thin piece of paper in a world where pen can only leave ink on thicker substances- whenever somebody asks you "Who are you?" you just turn your head shyly, and read from someone else's page.

2. It's been a while since you've substituted blankness for a renewal you thought you could find inside of another human being. You tell yourself that their words inspired yours, but are realizing it's not true. Love was not made to make the expression of detrimental things beautiful- the absence of it was.
Now that you're here as a mosaic of bruises that were left from somebody's poor negligence, you've begun to see that loneliness is an escape that treats you better no matter how hollow it is or how much work you have to put into fulfilling it.
Your hands get strained, your spine starts to curl, all under the weight of forgetting the emotions you had when you were writing for someone and not about them. A weight thats heavy and makes you miss the feeling of being in love more than you miss the person who you were in love with.

3. Instead of only being able to find inspiration when you hear specific footsteps walking away from you, you've tried to simulate their echoes every time you close your eyes, and then hoping for the best. With love, you knew about the withdrawal symptoms before you knew about the substance. When you had it and watched it fade away- you were left with that familiar feeling. That familiar longingness.
But now you understand what you must do when people enter a home uninvitedly. The next time you have it and lose it it will hurt, but it will not hurt in the same way.

4. Sometimes situations have a way of making you both aware and unaware of different things at the same time. Being in this state you realized; there is more than one way for a person to actually disappear.
And it never starts within them, it always starts around of them.
You started seeing less, feeling less, talking less, hoping less. You just followed what was there for you and hoped you wouldn't fall into a hole deeper than the one you were already in back then.
By the time you'd lost enough of yourself, you had the motivation to climb back up but just not enough physical strength to actually do it. You just followed the path and blamed its emptiness as a feature of your own intentions. When in actual fact, you only followed it like that because nobody wanted to lower themselves to be able to have the ability to walk with you.

5. A natural stationary position of yours is the position where it looks like someone has pushed you to the ground: you are always posed at that exact position, where you have just been pushed and you are simultaneously trying to get back on your feet.
Whenever you find yourself at a dead point that is caused by something that isn't a human being, you realize that it's always been 'too long' since you've dealt with a heartache that you are not used to.
Too long since you've carried a dilemma whilst thinking, "I don't know why this is here. I don't know why I am feeling this."
It's become this sort of pleasure that you sleep with knowing or not knowing just how far away healthiness is. Lying in bed all day pretending like you are whole- pitying your own broken heart as if you were not the one who broke it yourself.

6. It is hard to convince yourself that you are an optimist because of the way you express hurt like it will actually start saving you when you are not just feeling it, but when you are actually seeing it as well. But then again it all makes sense when you begin to realize: you beautified terrible things when terrible things began to happen too regularly.
It is not that you are trying to feel more of the pain because you are putting it into words.
It's that you are actually doing the opposite.

7. It's hard to keep up with your own identity when you are constantly turning people that know you into strangers.
You sometimes want to say it was spontaneous, but you've always known that it started with one small problem who always lied whenever they claimed to care more than they actually did.
They'd treat you with a kindness that had no actual action and you got used to depending on it like it was the only thing that you had left.
I guess when you get older you realize that sometimes people make mistakes and open things they're not supposed to- sometimes they rip holes in your mind that are big enough for the thought of their love, but not big enough for their love itself.

8. You're discovering that submission is more a habitat than a personality trait. You've pulled so many defenses around you that the only thing you dominate is the ability to come up with a false pretense. All the things that once meant so much to you seem to be running and fading away- they seem to be blackening out like the developing of a Polaroid in reverse. Slowly suffocating an image until the surroundings are disappearing slowly and malleably. Leaving only the person in the picture- surrounded by the blackness of the film.
Deemed to become an island in a great mess of things that could've been-
Deemed hopeless and passionless, hopeless and passionless.

9. You may or may not have been stronger when you were younger but you were definitely more content and aware. How many times have you looked at an old picture and thought "what happened during the years? was that really still me?" It is almost as if the time between then and now turned into a vast ocean and you were fast asleep whilst you sailed on it. You sometimes sunk and you sometimes rose above, but you were always unconscious. Always unconscious.
You guess that it is all what is eventually planned for you. But you can't help but shudder at the thought of it.

10. You hide away from attention because if people start to see just a little, they might eventually see too much.You're hoping one day you can show yourself as whimsically as you once did before you were forced to hide from a light that demolished you after it blinded you.
Maybe one day you'll exist under the presence of something that doesn't need to hold you to give you the same feeling you once needed to be able to carry on hoping.
You're just looking for a motive to keep you surviving even if it is only partly- You're just looking for an excuse to become addicted to something that doesn't have a heartbeat,
For once.

I had forgotten how it feels to be touched by you
You left my heart broken and mind askew
The longingness to see you
For eternity and eternally, or just seconds, few
I, henceforth remained unbothered and sad,
Even in a gala milieu!
You came back by a whisker and feelings, see through
And asked me to gather something new and old , something borrowed and  blue
I felt some jitters and saw love inked hues
I felt so lost when it should've been good in lieu
Then one day you woke up and away you flew
You told me it's over, out of love, you grew
I then remembered how it feels to be hurt by the cruel,
I then learnt, love leaves you unscathed and glad, if true
And seems precious than any material, money or jewel
You will find it in the world, first find it in YOU.

Tonight i realized that there’s beauty and power in every song because there’s an inspiration, no matter what its message is, there is a complete phenomenon on how the songs speak and communicate with our souls. Maybe it is also composed with emotions, not just that, but love and longingness..

Every song has a heart, how it is poured out in a song..it sets its emotion in every note, every heart beat, every hum . It is what we feel. The reason why we are being connected to it whenever we open ourselves. That’s why we cry hearing a song, changed lives occur, realizations taking place.

As I sang love songs, I realized that these love songs also is a way on how God communicates with us. It tells us how he feels for us, the same way the song is made for someone. God also has feelings. He also expresses his love, not only in act of kindness by providing us all we need but even in a song, he speaks real loud. If only we have ears to hear it, we could.

i think i've lost the feeling in my fingertips
and the words that
graze my lips
slip
and dissipate
into meaningless thoughts
onto a page
it's the banging against my window panes
the clang and drip of rain
it's the constant reminder of the sun
that 'yes, i live'
'yes, i am here'
'yes, i will stay'
'for as long as you will let me'
it's like listening to the sound of crashing waves
against the shore
as i dip my toes
in the moonlight
but
there is that fear
of the unknown
the slippery tongues of the abyss
that lap and lick against my heels
the tremble of my lip
the shudder down my spine
as it snakes around my legs
it's the longingness to runaway
and disappear
to leave without a trace
no new names, no fake identities
not a smidge of existence
no footprints left behind.

There I stood.
There I ached.
There I cried.
There I hoped.

Must be a dream
Or a nightmare
Just far from reality.

Reminiscing the days,
Just you and me.
Not a glance of her,
Nor echo of her voice.

You were happy,
I was happy,
Both of us were happy.
Right?

I told you my love
You did the same.
Thrice.

Told me of going back time
I asked if you're willing.
Making the sacrifice.

What we have now
It should be enough.
Yet the feels of seeking more
keeps creeping in.

Thoughts of regrets
Not making the mistake.
Longingness and misses
Wouldn't have to exist.

I love you
But you have her.
And though you love her,
You love me still

Indeed difficult,
Letting go the emotions.
Yet holding on,
Bigger and deeper wounds,
More than to bare.

I love you
Yet you have her.
Her with your angels
Beautiful, soon to come out.

I'll be happy
You'll be happy
We'll both still be happy.
Won't we?

every moment he was my child
it seemed he left me for another woman
those women; he complained were his companions
he felt solidarity
and that night---i lose myself of me
once more
he belonged to none, but myself
i wish i could paint him
there're no colors; i find solace
the tangible form and intangible idea's
i draw images in my mind with him being together
where no other women existed
and all this madness
i inherited in loving him too much
bit of anguish, a bit of longingness
and still craving for his touch ..
yet i wouldn't speak of this love
or sleep or hear
i know in your silences; i lost myself
with all the beatings of your heart
i possessed all the grace, and your light
occasionally i set myself apart from you
but i lost myself, to another woman
and each of your women, i lost every more of myself
it wasn't the greatest of the sadness
till i know
there is no love force in me
and in this confusion, you went away
to another woman, and to your women
all over you..
i would write you , in my each of letters
and in my alphabets and syntax of broken language
but i lose the power to write
to the force, i feel inward
and with every little of myself
i lose myself more of me,
and little by little,
i crave for you more
and i think of you in grandeur of this world
in hustle bustle of love
i think more of my great love
As i realize, the loneliness
is my greatest companion
and i'm the one, who belongs to loneliness
ahh, you shouldn't have let me go
this loneliness has gone over me
and yet, your women wouldn't leave you
making me see the loss of myself
every little while
this silence remind me of my greatest love
it reminds me of our possessed share
where there was everything but loyalty
in veiled colors
it seems i can't get over the days
of you being together with me
but your women came along
you felt consoled and you felt at ease
giving yourself to them
while keeping me in heart, you gained those women's attention
everything so untouched, and so distant
i feel my love more moving
close, and intense
your gazing is still over me
and i wish i could touch the sun
and sky, and stars
my heart, perhaps would feel at ease
perhaps i could adopt them
as my child ....as you were my own,
a piece drawn from me
but you were, another women's
those women were your face, your mind
and your life
but your heart...i touch your heart
even i feel this great warmth in me
moving for you, craving for you
i wouldn't still be your woman
and in him,
i felt a sharp pain of being a woman

yearning for something
i desire;

what lies beneath
the ivory duvet
when the rays of the sun
spares a shy glance
around the nook and cranny
of your room;

hands aching
to lace around yours;
waiting to taste sweet you,
bitterness slowly creeping
up to its own demise,
this is why the maidens
sung their hearts out
to accompany
the grieving tremors
that shook the faulty edges
we had built,
atop of guilt and uncertainties.

flustered sheets scattered
on the floor,
pieces of myself
i can no longer get back to
whilst a gaping hole
greeting my own eyes
held a fragment of truth and silence.

( this is not my home;
this is the apparition’s
treacherous threshold. )

yearning for something
i lost;

the warmth of your embrace,
contrasting with the
glare of the sun
pouring down on me,
easiness could never
give justice to you;

sly brushes of lips against my skin,
as if chanting
bohemian chants
all over me
to get out of this
witchcraft that we call love;

longingness in your eyes,
a renaissance painting
in front of you,
begging to feel
the constellations
in your hands
cascading through
every vein in me.

still, i feel something coil
deep inside me,
were you truly mine?

it was earth day
we placed our feet into the fresh soil
dipping our toes into foreign content
we were only so old,
only so young
the water felt warm for the time being
the time being short,
the feelings feeling long
long days spent as children acting
like adults
adults with problems
"we aren't similar, you and me"
"you're no different"
you were different
we push
you pull
we separate
we wash our bodies inside the once foreign water
with a feeling of longingness in the spaces between us
it was earth day that day
we said goodbye

Two kids on a concrete step,
Soft hopefulness upon rock hard failure,
A balance of love and hatred between them,
As well as a forbidden longingness for each other,

Yet, the girl in grey belongs to another,
And the boy in white belongs to no other,
For in time his heart will harden like stone,
And become a concrete step for another pair to sit,
That will perhaps fall in love,
Unlike those before them

Sun touches
the flower
a blossom
a kind of puberty
her eyes
open hormones
nag my heart
stimulated the feeling
of longingness..

I lay here
on this very bed where you laid
You were so close to me
The scent of your body
drowned my senses

At the time I thought about
this very brief
very sweet moment
trying so hopelessly to grasp

And I could completely see
how this very moment would be unfolding
and led to
this moment
knowing this might be the
last time

Can you at all sense
my longingness
my helpless
an ocean away

I want the be soft edges melted down from the broken mirrors of my hallowed halls
I want to be whisper touches and gentle words
I want my smile to be bright,
never faltering,
and always knowing
When the world is loud and the wind is howling out of control I want to be the quiet
I don't want to fill the space with what I want you to see but with what I am

But what I am is sharp teeth and prickly points with an ooey gooey center
Words leave me feeling frozen when they slice through my warmest sweaters
My knees click and clank together, faltering through every step like my legs are stone and the street, molasses
I am Christmas songs in June staring you in the eye, begging you to tell me it's too early
I poke at my own bruises and have the audacity to condemn you for reaching out with spindly fingers to poke them too

I am also spiced gingerbread and hugs with too short of arms that seem to be able to hold you tight as if they're miles long
I am built from fire, one shot of me will leave your ears burning
My icicle veins have long since thawed leaving puddles deep enough for us to grab hands and jump into together
Butterfly kisses and cornflake potatoes shaped this body standing before you
My cells are made of crystals of sugar and tiny fireflies
And my heart reaches towards the souls floating around me

I am the good and the bad
I am leftover ashes from fallen homes
The longingness of nostalgia and the need for new adventure
I cry for the weeds that are cut down along the road while my own hands are painted with the dirt that pulled out my own

I am contradiction and balance
I am a desire to be.

When the longingness
Strikes once again
And the "what ifs"
Seek more answers

I strengthen my resolve
Keep my head up high
And give a long sigh
This too, will pass by.

I can't decide anymore. What's real and what's just lies...............................If I see something it does not exist because it cannot , because I do not give the space, the time of day for it to creep in my mind and grab anything!!. It is closed for business. The figments of a fig are that the tree from which it comes is greedy. It produces fruit and that is it. I wear a hat and smile as the whole world with sunglasses on, begins the march of the day each day every day. We all cry at the stages where tears are the necessary medium towards the complacent trivial trivia vacuum city inside out of a world left behind.
The happiness, it begins to grow out of a shadow from its force fed web. It is not like a choice or an easy way out. It is long and draws from experience of past, present and future. The decision becomes clear when the storm ceases. The ever begging hand that grows from which we do not understand appears to direct itself forward towards the glowing circumstance of wealth, fame and an UN told decency that is not because it is not. No longer, no longer, and again a statement of clearly no longer. No longer the any longingness that is inside, what we see is what we see and what we do not see is truly what we are. It disturbs us behind closed doors and shut eyes.
Why can something be seen but never said. You think what? What do you think? Can we continue to deny any truth that might UN circumcise our ritualistic world like a moth to the flame as some say. It can be said as far as the horizon is near to the moon that there is a lot of sand not that there are lots of sands. This is because it is not how it is done, how we perceive the world and everything in between. We are without ears that we do not hear, we are without
eyes that we do not see, we are without mouths that we do not speak, we are without hands that we do not act, we are without feet that we do not move, we are without minds that we do not think and we are without hearts that we do not nor cannot care. We choose, we chose this world, this life. Now we find ourselves high, with so very hard to fall and everyone will hurt. It is the world that is with child and each one as spoilt as the next. When it all comes crashing down where will you be? Who will you be? What will you do? When all of this that is going and flying, all of this that is. What is it? It can be so simple and so easy. Helping someone helps them but releases such a happiness within a person it is indescribable. We cannot count the time because even though it was created, like the waves it cannot be controlled. You are not coming home, you are moving within what we convince ourselves to be reality based on our own concept of the word truth. It has been stretched and tested so the word truth, it is extinguished. No one remembers its original purpose as it is lost among ridiculous notions and mixed promises. When you are faced with what you think you want do you shoot it, take it. We need the wisdom to be able to love. If someone is out of milk then you can have some of mine. If your hands are ***** then wipe them on my shirt. No one is better than anyone. To want something what do you need. To really need something you have to want to love. Something needs to be triggered and moved inside for all of anything to make sense. Would we be better off deciding some fate beyond the recklessness we have ensued ourselves in? Than to continue this terminal bow of crying clowns on a stage built on a foundation of misused power and faulty judgement. Does the past not in some points of form clearly show the state of human existence? That the hunger or lust, as it has evolved within us all, fuels the end game, end zone. We are travelling at great speeds with no breaks and no certain direction. For someone to point a finger but we are all to blame. Some for
doing many things, and the rest for doing nothing and staying silent. We must act in a manner that is elusive to the fact that we cannot predict the future. The outcome is in all our hands. It is not only to address the current economic, environmental and social unrest we find ourselves in, but it is to firmly direct all decent, UN remorseful and civilized thought towards a question, the question. What is the current state of the human condition.

Though thousand things are changing
In and around me

And nothing could change my everlasting
Longingness in me

If  someone
Longs for the affection of someone

Atleast, HE  may give some other one
who longs more than, that one

To show that HE  gave longingness for everyone..