I run myself a bath, I put fluffy bubbles and soothing soaps in it, I light candles and turn down the lights, and make sure it's the perfect temperature
To cry in it

I drag myself out of bed, brush my teeth and get dressed, I tediousely organize my room, alphabetical, by colour, I get out my books, I dust the smooth pages
To cry on them

I pick out a fresh shirt, pants, shoes. I tie my hair and dry my face. I put on a nice jacket
Just to soak it with tears

Just to cry

It's seems most of my time these days, is spent on things that stray to sobs
Stray to crying
Shofi Ahmed May 2017
On the eye to eye, it streamed down.
From the unseen but the one is all seeing.

Far from the Mars from the Neptune
far away from all the giant planets
only down onto the earth fell a teardrop!

Every angel in the heavens' shore
has heard of the lore.
It’s spot on, mesmerising beautiful.
Far from the blue harbour sky
hunky dory is delights to the eyes
the stunner is made to measure.

Like a tear in the corner of the eye
diagonally weighed down
with 360-degree open looking sky.
Close within a fingertip comes the Moon
still is a sea ahead of the flow untouchable!
Shofi Ahmed May 2017
This little heart of mine
often you nourished it
and cherished it gladly
as if it was a sweet smile
among a million primulas!

Oh, this little heart of mine
how often should it be scrutinised
be squeezed into the flip side?
What magic, should it show up?
Though no longer one sheds a tear
but spares a dose of love.

The sweetest moments in life
only come from love.
The harrowing ones are
no strangers—too big and bold
and could flesh out with no bound.
But fill this with only a slice—
not the lot—just with a bit of love,
this little heart of mine!
Shofi Ahmed Mar 2017
I wanted to sneak into
a space down the star
I couldn’t sleep in a night
Huh I was yet to get an
answer to a quiz why!

Though I showed a mirror
The moon floats in the night
gently, the dark could
mingles into the light.
But one couldn’t relay
My sweetie toyed it away!

As if no matter what if one
wishes so is free to sway.
Huh my sweetie toyed it away!

Did the Moon score
tapping in on the starry
night’s blackboard,
how many balls?
Who can tell, who can tell?
Though a cheering sun rises
In the end by the rose.
Myriads stars meltdown
in a stunner’s teardrop.
That stirs coming so close.
Yet is a dwarf over the ocean!

Touches the moon not
one that pulls the most.
The sea lives by the small earth
There is no law in love
My sweetie toyed it away!
Zumee Jun 7
"Had it only been me
I wouldn't dare voice the issue.
Now that you started crying
Would you please pass a tissue?"
Chelsea K Aug 2017
A forest-green & tan striped couch, littered with burn holes from forgotten cigarettes, serves as foreshadowing of what lies ahead for the forgotten flower lying upon it.

The flower curls up on this couch, as it's the best view to admire mom from across the room, as she magically transforms eyelashes into feathers with the swipe of a wand.

Ignorantly innocent, the flower patiently awaits her time to bloom, yearns for her petals to unfurl like mom's: flawless perfection.

But gradually, mom's smokey cat eyes become dark shadows of hollow sunken ships, and bright rosy skin fades to washed out colors of furniture bathed in harsh sunlight year after year.

Now, mom buried the bones of the delicate structure she built from inside her womb, and decades later her daughter's dismantled skeleton is scattered ruins of an abandoned sunken city, polluted by the rotten flesh of unwanted fruit; a weak foundation destined to be crumbled relics of an ancient past.

Never once did Mom leave flowers at the grave that she dug.

I imagine the sweetest sounds to a brand-new mother are the screams and wails of her newborn child, reassurance that it's vibrant life lights up the room as blindingly as the birth of a newborn star, a commanding presence louder than that star's explosive death.

On the contrary, I imagine the sweetest sound to MY mother was the silence when she muffled the screams. From underwater, you cannot hear screams for help, or much of anything at all. 

Her solace was the peace felt when muddy water filled her lungs, the darkness found from deep within a drug-induced sleep, where you cannot hear a child weep.

I mentioned the young girl always wanted to be like her mom. And so it was...all grown up when I tried heroin for the first time. I held true to mom every time the rush of warm blood filled the syringe, visual evidence that the blood was thicker than the bond mom and I shared.

Usually when a person's life is ruined by a parent's addiction they will stay an ocean's length away from drugs - but I am a curious cat, ignoring the fact that I do not have 9 lives, and so I welcomed this substance into my veins, into my brain.

The brown lady would wrap me up in her arms each night, then gently dip me in the familiar flame of a fire's flickering tongue. She became the only company that could never overstay its welcome.

And so, for a time I became my mother: "flawless perfection." I will admit that heroin is one hell of a drug, but -still- i cannot see! How could heroin steal my mother's love?
Shofi Ahmed Jul 4
I wished to see my beloved
living in my heart.
When she appeared
for the first time, her radiance,
her light dazzled my eyes!

But so clear I can see her eye  
in the corner of it is a tear.
Days, months, years passed by
like it did then till now her eyes
whisper in every single word!

Speaks in the words in my alphabet
and in the words that are her
I am yet to know that makes me wonder!
ashton May 14
I didn't choose it
I didn't wake up one day and tell myself
let's be anxious
let's be depressed
let's want to die
let's start self harming
I didn't choose to be like this

slowly my problems
my monsters
became visible
they started small
skipping lunch
making a cut or two on my hand
shaking for a while in school
but I fell

I didn't choose to be this person.
We just get handed who we are.
I didn't choose this.
I never wanted to be that

I didn't want to be riddled with anxiety and insecurities,
to wallow in self-pity and sleep for hours everyday
to stay up all night with anxiety
to steal razors
to eat one-hundred calories and then barf it back up
but that's what happened.

I didn't choose this
I didn't choose
I didn't choose to tear apart my life.
it just
happened
I'm really good right now but in a reflective state currently oof
Xaela San Jul 26
They say I'm strong willed person, relaxed, or composed and happy most of the time
And when I lie- "I'm fine" they'll believed without a doubt
Yes it may seem so, but because its all about mastering
The delicacy of the craftsmanship of my outer being
Then pretending and masking is the result of my handmade effort;

All of it was and all of it will, is a product of my lachrymose heart
To let people believe what I want them to believe of me
Even if molding myself into someone I do not wish to become

But was it worth it? But will it be worth it?

Regret may sometimes be inevitable and cunning
As it kills my sleep and peace of mind to an oblivion
With over thinking of the possible reasons to destroy this best mask I wear
And put to an end to this lachrymose heart that controls my whole being;

Though I want to be honest, be the hurted person I truly am;
Though I want this pain in my heart be manifested through tears;
But even if it do fall down, no one notices, no one see my pleas

All the time I'm just here pretending to be fine
Never letting a single tear from my lachrymose heart cry.
7|26|2018
Faith Jul 7
I rip myself apart,
Piece by piece.
I place bits of my heart,
Into your hands.

I tear my soul,
Little by little,
And gift a morsel:
But when will I realize,
You never asked for me,
Or my vulnerability?

Remaining transfixed.
You step on my soul,
Dirty it,
Bury it,
Beneath soil,
Without a second glance.
No mercy,
Or pity,
In your eyes.
Simply and only,
A slight surprise.
You never asked for my care,
And were never aware,
Of all I invested,
All that manifested,
Beneath my shell,
Deep within my heart.
So why would you mind,
Tearing it apart?
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