How can you forgive something
that has never been apologized for?
It's an undeveloped photograph
It's an unfinished sentence
It's a working draft

How can you forget something
that has never been remembered?
It's an unopened package
It's a safe without a key
It's a lost baggage

It keeps you searching
It keeps you longing
It keeps you deciphering
The question
The answer
The password
It keeps you hanging
It keeps you wondering
It keeps you waiting for
The closure
The end
The full stop

You need a period not a comma
You need an end not a pause
You need closure
You need conclusion
Because you need
A new sentence
A new stanza
A new chapter

A beginning from an ending

If feelings can be held, then I dare you to hold mine.
I dare you to catch it with your bare hands.
I dare you to hold it tight.
I dare you to put it in your pocket.
I dare you to wear it on your sleeve.

If feelings can be heard, then I dare you to hear mine.
I dare you to catch its every whisper.
I dare you to hear its screams, its laughter, its sighs.
I dare you to hear its cries.
I dare you to hear it echo through your ears.
I dare you to listen to its pleading.

If feelings can be seen, then I dare you to see mine.
I dare you to look it in the eyes.
I dare you to stare at its wholeness.
I dare you to witness its unfolding.
I dare you to marvel at its being.
I dare you not to blink as it looks at you back.
I dare you to let it see beneath your soul.
I dare you to see its light.

And if these feelings can be felt, I dare you to feel mine.
I dare you to snuggle its warmth.
I dare you to shiver at its coldness.
I dare you to feel its corners, its edges, its curves.
I dare you to feel its beating.
I dare you to feel its breathing.
I dare you to feel it.
I dare you to feel its feelings.

I dare you to feel it.
I dare you to feel.
I dare you.

The remote control looks different
Television has 20 new channels
The side table is not on the right side of the long bench anymore
Her favorite mug is now a vase
Her spoon and fork are not in the drawer
No cookie crisps in the cupboard
No kimchi in the fridge
Things were different from when she still lived here
Things were different from three years ago

Everyone is soundly sleeping upstairs
Her old room is now her cousin's
Her old bed is now her sister's
She will sleep on the floor
But she couldn't find the mattresses
She doesn't know where to look
But she looks everywhere
She couldn't find it
Exhaustion and frustration seeps in
“Where are the mattresses?"
She screams in her head
Tears start streaming down her cheeks

She wants to sleep now
She wants to rest
She wants to feel home.
But she doesn't. She couldn't.
She doesn't know where the sheets are
She couldn't find where the sheets are.

“I don't live here anymore. This is not home."

~~
I am not writing any poetry
Not a huff,
Not even a romantic mood,
I talked to a distress

Unto thee of say my friend:

The suffering of pain is more than a pain
Words of distress
No longer I can't say either

The story of that night
That is longer than a long night
That night, my love had died before the dawn

How do I tell thee

The suffering of love is unforgettable
Than the love you never achieved  
Middle of the night to about chest pain

When I could not bear it no longer
Then at late night I call a friend to awake
No longer I can't say either

My friend
O' my friend!
My dearest friend!

How do I tell thee
My soul grew dry that is more than a wither petals
No longer I can't say either

When the sudden stopped of time
I stood, Saw the closed distant door
No longer I can't say either

To be alone in everybody
Within a moment a known seems to be unknown
No longer I can't say either

The last thing to understand who she is constant
The story of the lost bright Star
No longer I can't say either

The door is closed
Maybe someone has locked
Alone, The sleepless nights of choking

One's that hard
Many pale faces in the crowd of strangers
Love is lost within too many hopes

How do I tell thee
No longer I can't say either
~~
@ Musfiq us shaleheen

I saw the old man circling the tree trunk
Weather beaten skin, bent gnarled hands
and piercing blue eyes

He seemed to study every knot and crack
in that ancient timber

Then without a word turned and picked up hammer and chisel

The wood chips then began to fly and like confetti on the ground lie soon in heaps some ankle high

Occasionally he would stand back and look but never once a rest he took

Mallet strokes both hard and soft some from under some aloft fell there with unerring skill always busy never still

Long into the night he worked now by the light of an oil lamp and so the tree stump 'neath his hand then became a work of art

At long last he stood and turned to me and said three words " that'll do lad"

I approached to see just what he'd done and there I saw the perfect rose every petal and leaf in place the slender stems in the breeze did sway

With no plan or picture he had made the start
And created the perfect work of art.


So what is creativity? Well that's your next challenge.

No love poems because they've been done a million times. This time something unique

Can we be lovers if we hate one another?
Love and hate, closer than you think
Stemming from passion and passion's all I've needed.

So, slam me on the bed,
Rip these clothes to shreds.
You hate me so good.

Yank my hair
Leave me gasping for air.
You hate me so good.

Can we be lovers if we hate one another?
And the answer is yes,
It's always ever been, yes.

Her beauty was natural with the volume turned up
She was music only I could hear
My headphones for lonely nights
A bass line that echoes my heart

Her only genre was making me smile
A one person concert every time we spoke
She needs no instruments just her lips
The only amp she needs is her soul

Cover art was the pretty dresses
Song names days we spent
The duration of an album was each season
And I wanted the summer single to never end.

Fulfilling my father’s dreams,
I forgot to dream.

Wanting to be the first in everything,
I forgot to enjoy.

Building a house,
I forgot to make a home.

Reading about love,
I forgot how to love.

Meeting new people,
I forgot to make friends.

Wanting too much,
I forgot to offer.

Running to beat time,
I forgot to stay.

Waiting for her,
I forgot to live.

control your **** impulses,
you heartless, condescending *****.

You have my bones in a choke hold
Even they’re brittle enough
I’m grasping at your ribs
Though I’m not sure if they’re bone or dust
The dust has turned into a sand in an abandoned desert
I am lost
I am so involved in your dissolved bones
I have buried myself deep
Yet this is not a place
But yet a small unhindered body that I can no longer find myself in