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You said you loved me_
It took me 730 days and two hours
To wake up from your deceit.
What was all this affection you showed me?
You promised to replace my dejection with your attention.
But I forgot to ask: was it friendly or intimate?
The half I planned to spend my life with
Turned into pieces I wish to crush,
Over and over again.
You told me you loved me,
And I repeated it like a mantra.
We shared ideas, dined together;
I was happy, blinded by hope.
I thought you could replace
The love I couldn’t find elsewhere.
Now I wear shades to hide my sore eyes,
To shield myself from the paint you flung at my heart.
I wear a mask to stop inhaling the love you feigned.
I must stop accepting the French kisses
You gave me in public,
When, behind closed doors,
We were just strangers to your truth.
Everyone thought we were one_
Until you shattered the illusion.
We were only “friends” in front of strangers.
Why trade my innocence for your satisfaction?
Should I curse the day our shoulders brushed?
Should I throw acid at the fragrance I gave you?
Why did you lie about the love you gave?
Were you scared I’d reject you?
If you only sought my friendship?
But now, I’m waking up.
I cast my shades and mask into the flames,
Draping myself in a love that heals,
That gives me everything.
This year is an eye-opener for me.
These words I call poetry
Are the first steps to my joy.
Your love will never find a home
In my heart again,
No matter how brightly you try to glow.
Don’t love the idea of me anymore
Love me if you want me.
Don't love the idea of me while you
Pretend to love me.
Melt the lump rising in your muscle.
Burst the pulse swelling in your mind.
Take a ride to the haven in your veins.
Carve pottery from the remnants of your ashes.

I understand the pain that stings your abdomen when you hustle.
I know how much those harsh periods confined you.
Your eyeballs screamed out the stigma found in your stains—
colors that made rainbows when they flashed.

It wasn’t your fault.

I know the stains may shame you,
but believe me—you won’t die.
Don’t lose the fight to that material you can’t afford.
There are days coming when your body will leave this cave of ignorance.

There is a solution that will change the game.
There is something called antibiotics that will dry your tears.
This red fluid is called menstrual discharge.
It isn’t an illness.
Can someone tell her it as not an illness???
It is a normal menstrual cycle..
In her gut,
Was bitterness she chewed.
Hidden between her eyes,
Were scars that made her vexed.

She bore thoughts,
She nurtured them—deadly.
At the verge of her hatred,
She murdered her conscience,
Slaughtering the ghost
That killed her mind space.
She is a warrior, not just a nobody
We are called to walk in the Spirit,
yet a nameless grip keeps steering our feet astray.
That’s when we go searching for willpower
for dominion over the sights before our eyes
and the thoughts we let rise in our minds.

We may think we’re always right
but if that were true,
every person would claim the bench of Chief Justice,
or worse, the throne of Chief Lawless.
I can't help writing from this biblical verse that talks about walking in spirit and not heeding to the flesh.
Casting my yarns of many colors in turns,
Hoping my yearning earns what I thirst for.
The fire took advantage—
Burnt fiercely, feeding on my resentment like hay.
Painful hatred made me its subject,
Letting fear delay the beat of my heart.

Through the flame, I saw only bloodshot reflections—
A version of me I barely recognized.
My nose flared, carrying anger down the walkway,
While deception dressed as truth passed by.

Why does the light shine on my shadowed scars?
Why does my retina reflect a bloodied knife?
Why can’t I sleep with my eyes closed
When even the sun can rest?

Am I healing, or dying?
Even if it’s only an echo
That dares to beat a drum and whisper healing—
Let it speak.
Maybe then, the vengeful color in my pupils
Will soften into something human again.

I just need one voice to reach deep,
To say:
“Your scars are proof you healed.”
You are proof your scars healed and also your scars are proof you healed.
CHAINS
I was stuck in the jungle
Being ******* like Pringles
Watched all day and night by hidden an eagle
I cannot even mumble.

I was bonded with chains
Shivering in pains
I am not able to wash stains off
That unleashed scars that cannot be erased

Respect, dignity and virginity
was all lost with intense atrocity
The atmosphere was filled with tears from wavering souls
All our virtue, they stole.

— The End —