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Sep 2014 · 523
18
Xienab Sep 2014
18
One day, you’re 18 and the boy you fell for in high school breaks your heart.

One day, you’re 25 and the boy who broke your heart has been long gone and his name is just another name among the bunch of “lovers that went wrong”. Among the “Should’ve beens” and “Would’ve beens”.

So there it is. Be 18. Wear your heart on your sleeve. Give your number to a stranger on the train who sparked a conversation with you about the weather or whether your Thursday night was vacant. Wear your heart on your sleeve. Love defiantly. Forgot what heartbreaks feels like, just remember how you wrote good poetry with mascara infused tears leaving track-marks along your cheekbones. Let boys look at you, you are a girl of beauty after all. Wear a new shade of lipstick that begs the attention. Run in the morning, understand you are free. Wear your heart on your sleeve.

And by all means, be 18. One day, you’ll be 25 and miss the petty heartbreaks of being 18.
Continue reading...
Aug 2014 · 477
When it's time to leave.
Xienab Aug 2014
When it's time to leave.
It was time to leave.

The darkness you left me in is crawling into my veins and arteries.
Making home in the hollowness of what used to be a heart.

The vulgarness in your language that night has made friends with my white blood cells, so recalling you makes me sick.

The silence doesn't dawn on me until I look down at my hands.
You claimed ownership to them.
You used to hold them with love beaming from your palms.

I shrudder at the sight of happy lovers.
We are no longer lovers.
And happiness is a thing of the past.
Continue reading...
Aug 2014 · 407
How to be alone
Xienab Aug 2014
How to be alone
I don't mean to sound cliche, but dear ******* diary;

I went to the gym today.
6 months ago, I just wanted to get toned.
Today I realized I just want to shed every single bit of me.
Itty, bitty as possible.
Maybe just then, I'll be a ghost.

I also realized how terribly alone I am.
Because it's 2:53am and I wanted to call him,
But he doesn't care anymore.

I'll literally talk to anyone who will listen.
I texted 7 digits but numberly anonymous worried about someone else.
"Don't worry about me".
I really hope they don't worry about me.
I'll be okay.
Eventually.
Continue reading...
Aug 2014 · 420
How we used to be.
Xienab Aug 2014
How we used to be.
It's 1:21am.
And I would've still been on the phone with you, had it not gone all wrong.
Now I just lie in a mattress of emptiness & an ambiance of lightlessness.
Listening to lyric-less piano chords remixed with the memories of you and me.
And how we used to be.

I hope that someday,
Just as every overplayed song on the radio,
This melody will fade out.
Never to be heard again.
Continue reading...
Aug 2014 · 281
Image of what matters.
Xienab Aug 2014
Image of what matters.
She loved him not for the way he looked

He was more than that.
He was more than piercing blue eyes and               an inviting smile.

She loved him for what she discovered beyond the physicalities.

A disarming amount of charms & sweetness that could make a girl want to fold herself as small as possible so she could be implante to just sit in his heart.

She loved him.
And he loved her too.
But just an image of her,
Not the girl attached.
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Aug 2014 · 1.1k
Heartless
Xienab Aug 2014
Heartless
I broke a few ribs when I fell to ground, when I was falling in love with you.

One of them punctured my heart and I've been bleeding you ever since.

I'm almost drained and the doctors are calling for a blood transfusion but all I really need is you, and your AB-type-blood-love.

The doctors are calling for a heart transplant, but how is that possible if you already took my heart when I made you home?

The poet's taught me that home is where the heart is.
My heart has always been with you and I had become accustomed to calling you home.

Now I am not only homeless,
I am heartless.
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Jul 2014 · 530
Writer's Curse
Xienab Jul 2014
Writer's Curse
That's the plague of a dull heart in a
colorful world.

You never understand the hues radiating
from a person's soul.

You never fully comprehend the array of
fireworks behind one's smile.

Except for the writer herself.

She has a way with words.
She choreographs them in her mind and
then she watches them in awe, as they
dance on her paper.

She has a heart of rainbow calla lilies.
Always see's the best in people,
Disregards the worst.
This is the resiliency,
Of the writer' curse.
-Z.H.
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Jul 2014 · 484
How My Skin Became Leather
Xienab Jul 2014
How My Skin Became Leather
My palms are calloused enough to the compatibility of leather.

I was gifted them while holding on to what was only trying to rid me.
                    
This is the art of holding on.
This is the art of letting go.  
        
And I'm sorry for the residue of my palm prints.
        
As for my scars,
They behold a lesson to who may question them.

A lesson I should've already know.

Skin isn't as durable as we wished it could be.
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Jul 2014 · 441
5/365
Xienab Jul 2014
5/365
He was midas
And she was just tin.

He ran his finger tips along her sharp edges.
He embraced her rugged structure.
He filled her hollowness with glitter, turned her into gold.

She only became petty gold.
Like a cheap wedding band.
A symbol of love, but never to be loved.

-Z.H.
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Jul 2014 · 1.1k
4/365 #LongLivePalestine
Xienab Jul 2014
4/365 #LongLivePalestine
Ya Allah.
Ya Allah.
May you grant all the oppressed triumph.
May you bestow upon them the strength to change the world

Palestinian children are the bravest children the world has ever seen.
Palestinian mothers are the strongest women to ever walk this earth.
Palestinian fathers are the most hard working men to start on their hands and knees.

3 Israeli teens were murdered and it suddenly makes headline news.
16 Palestinians, ages 8-21 were murdered within 2 weeks and their names were never eulogized.

When will Palestine be recognized as a ongoing genocide?
And if a tree falls in the forest and no ones around to hear it does it make a sound?

Yes.
and a blind eye is turned.
and earplugs are handed out on street corners.

#LongLivePalestine
-Z.H.
Continue reading...
Jul 2014 · 498
3/365 (High School)
Xienab Jul 2014
3/365 (High School)
This is..
To dragging our limber bodies out of bed before the sun has kissed the horizon.

To painting on fake smiles, like we females, paint on our faces with the foundation of insecurity.

To pulling on designer clothes that said more about us that we could ever say about ourselves. Our secrets stitched into fashion trends.

To making a half-assed grade with half-moons blackening the circumference of our eye sockets.

To teachers trying to tell the difference between who spent the lunch hour getting high or who spent the lunch hour succumbing to their tear-ducts.

To standing up to Queen ***** when she sneers at your choice of shoes, telling her, that you can't live the high life if you don't wear high heels.

To the intimidation when we realized that hallways were more like runways.

To the friends you thought you'd keep forever.
They didn't stay beyond graduation day.

I was told that my high school days were supposed to be the best days of my life.
And now I question, will the rest of my life be as colourless as my high school days?
Continue reading...
Jul 2014 · 1.8k
2/365
Xienab Jul 2014
2/365
8 years old.
Singing to the playground.
One, two
Buckle my shoe...

18 years old.  
Singing to my lover.          
One, two  
I fell for you...

Three, four                          
You're the only one I adore.

Five, six
We're like a solar eclipse.
You as the sun and I as the moon
Our alignment is lovely.

Seven, eight
An escalated heart rate.
Started at 65 heartbeats.
Tracing limbs... 72.
Kissing contours..
96.

Nine, ten.
I keep falling for you.
Over and over again.
#love
Continue reading...
Jun 2014 · 401
1/365
Xienab Jun 2014
1/365
You found a love buried deep beneath the surface of your skin.
Past the layers of epidermis.
Past every muscle and fibers.
Past the all the capillaries.
Past all the cells holding you together.
He held you, together.  
You loved someone.              
And this time,
Someone was in love with you too.
Continue reading...
Jun 2014 · 322
Untitled
Xienab Jun 2014
Untitled
You apologize for falling asleep.

My phone adhering to my cheek by the sweat of "Wishing You Were Here"
It's okay. It'll always be okay.                        

You don't believe me when I tell you that the heavy breathing of your slumber is a lullaby.            
I listen intently.

You man-handle your mornings with the aspirations and ambitions.
A few dark hours of limberness under the silenceness of the moon.

You don't believe me when I tell you that the heavy breathing of your sleepness is a lullaby.
I listen intently.
Intensely.
Continue reading...
Jun 2014 · 509
Winter to Spring to Summer to Fall.
Xienab Jun 2014
Winter to Spring to Summer to Fall.
On the first day I wilt.
On the second day I wither.
And wither
And wither
And wither
And then comes winter,
And I'll be nothing.
I was always told that there's a calm before the storm.
And with April showers, I blossomed again.
But spring has already come and gone, taking it's course.
And the summer sun will only wear and wither me out.
Later will come fall, and we will all fall.

Z.H.
Continue reading...
Feb 2014 · 529
Letters
Xienab Feb 2014
Letters
Dear Moon,
Why haven't you lulled me to sleep yet?
Is it because you envy the love I have for the sun?  
Does the way it arises in such an ostentatious matter offend you?
The sun marks the beginning of a day
Whereas you just end one.

Dear Moon,
I apologize for the tirade of indirect emotion
But to be frankly honest, I prefer beginnings
I never liked endings
I never liked goodbyes either
And your crescent figure marks the both
                                            
Dear Moon,
I find you to be rather beautifying
Such a sight worth marvelling at
But every morning the sun graces me with a benign smile and says to me;
*"My dear, I'm out today, be content with yourself"
Continue reading...
Dec 2013 · 1.1k
Skies, Seas & Spines of Books
Xienab Dec 2013
Skies, Seas & Spines of Books
One way flights into the sky & let fate control the destination of my destiny.

Sail the supple curves of the oceans waves and may the rocking motion rock me into an everlasting fantasy.

Read about Baldwin's palpable endeavors, cover to cover and marvel at Sylvia Plath's anthologies that run shivers up and down my basketball-court of a spine.                                              

Let Shakespeare educate me on love, heartbreak, tragedy and the reality of all stoicism and cynicism bestowed upon my naiveness.    

Truth is, I don't know where I'm going, but whether it be the sky, the sea or within ink-stained papers, let them guide me to a place of genuine sincerity.
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Dec 2013 · 840
Beautifying Ultimate Elements- Flowers
Xienab Dec 2013
Beautifying Ultimate Elements- Flowers
You planted roses in my heart
& calla lilies in my mind.
Daisies in my palms
& lilacs in my eyes.
Ultimately,
You've abandoned them entirely, leaving them to die.
& I find it utterly heartbreaking that flowers are the most beautiful as they were wilting.
& I find it insanely paradoxical that I could only marvel at them, as they were ending.
-Z.H.
Continue reading...
Dec 2013 · 858
Swirling of the Midnight Mind
Xienab Dec 2013
Swirling of the Midnight Mind
What is simple in the midst of the night,
Is never easy by sunrise.

Doesn’t that question your heart to know;
Whether the sun is capable of bleaching you clear of all passion?

This was supposed to be a poem;
But I don’t feel so good anymore.

This was supposed to be a “Dear Diary” entry;
But there is nothing dear about this entry

This was supposed to be a rationale about love;
But there is nothing rational about love.

This was supposed to be a motivational speech;
But the audience of my surroundings portray an ambiance of apathy.

This was supposed to be a farewell letter;
But my blood-pumping ***** cannot orchestrate a declaration of adieu.

This was supposed to be a livid rant;
But I cannot pinpoint the suitable syllables that have the strength to impale you such as a bullet.

This was supposed to be a love letter;
But I am not capable of fabricating words to exhilarate your mortalness.

This was supposed to be a poem;
But instead, it is a 3:48am compilation of my most vulnerable thoughts.

And I question;
At what age did I lose my compassion?
When did my smile become so brittle?
When did I become so bitter…?
So brash?
-Z.H.
Continue reading...
Dec 2013 · 995
Dear Diary
Xienab Dec 2013
Dear Diary
"Dear Diary"* I wrote at the top of the page. I've turned to these wretched pages because I have no one else to turn to.

I have been wanting to runaway for sometime now. I have an estranged sense of nostalgia towards places I haven't even been to.                

Did you know that you shattered my heart? That a shard of ***** lacerated my ribcage? & so I've concluded...

That perhaps one day, when I'm 22, I will cut my hair short and runaway to new york and try to find a big sweet apple they've always talked about.                 

I will disregard my birth name and I will end up telling everyone I meet that my name is Aphrodite, but I am not greek nor am I a lover. I'll write poetry. The good poetry and the bad poetry. I'll write poetry the way you called your quits, blank eyed and confusing. And may the next person to make my heart glow, be just as kind as you, minus the volatility, equivalent charms.  
Laugh as sentimental as 100yr old harpist.
Smile as transfixing as a dim star, on a moonless night
Eye's as beautiful as the sun..

But just as the sun, I never could stare to long.
Continue reading...
Dec 2013 · 1.1k
Analysis of Clock-Versifications
Xienab Dec 2013
Analysis of Clock-Versifications
It's 2:46am
But I am not sleeping.
I am steady staring at my ceiling, trying to recollect the last time I felt this forlorn.
...the last time I felt a hollowness make its home in the pit of my stomach, only to be satisfied by the thought that you might be thinking of me, just as I do.

It's 3:04am
... and I am still not asleep.
The butterflies in the pit of my stomach,
are now dying.
They once fluttered around so proudly for you,
but you've left them poisoned with abandonment the day you called your quits.

It's 3: 17am
and I am almost asleep.
But I wonder...
If the same loneliness that consumes me,
consumes you too?
Written for a friend of mine.
Continue reading...

— The End —