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 Mar 2018 Cam
Simoné
Seven Years
 Mar 2018 Cam
Simoné
It took me seven years
to realise
the words in my mind
were too deep for
my mouth to dig up
I thought it was easier
to open my skin
and let the truth
pour down my arms

It took me seven years
to realise
nobody should be allowed
to touch parts
of your home
or hold pieces  
of your heart
that you don't yet understand

It took me seven years
to realise
I will wear these scars
forever
I'll carry them
through every smile
every kiss
every concerned gaze
I'll carry them
to my grave

It took me seven years
to realise
the pain carved
into the walls
of my castle
etchings of
attempting to disappear
are not a story of weakness
but a tale of
how I survived
 Mar 2018 Cam
the unwritten note
I still
keep wondering.
When was it
that I started
loving you
in these strange
unknown ways.
And that was
when I stopped
believing in
fairytales.
And maybe I will always love you in these strange ways .
 Mar 2018 Cam
the unwritten note
end
 Mar 2018 Cam
the unwritten note
end
And somehow
we need to understand
that all things
will come to an end.
To pave way
for others.
Even the sun
has to set
to let the moon shine.
And it was an end for us too.
 Mar 2018 Cam
Scott F Hemingway
a midnight
let fly
a lubricious
crow that
Vesuvius threw
off her
mind and
made out
this harmony
and a
throng we
once said
was so
wild where
we met
in night
of ash
a state of mind
 Mar 2018 Cam
the unwritten note
I kept chasing
you, as if
you were
a distant dream.
But dreams
are not always
dreams.
Sometimes, we have
nightmares too.
When did those dreams turned into nightmares? When did I stop believing in the magic of dreams?
 Mar 2018 Cam
Dev
Soapy water
 Mar 2018 Cam
Dev
I am like a sink full of soapy water.
Bubbly, happy, and clean...

On the outside, at least.

Dip your hand in, you'll find that I'm still
Warm, relatively clean until...

You slice your hand on the knife hidden just underneath those shiny bubbles

I'm sorry if I hurt you,

But you shouldn't stick your hand into soapy water

If you aren't prepared to deal with the damage
And when you cut your hand in my sink, it bleeds into me, and changes everything.
 Mar 2018 Cam
Shanath
The Irony
 Mar 2018 Cam
Shanath
The black and white pills
Are failing to cure me,
After three long years of running
It's my feet that's killing me.

I would have ran home
Though I ran from there,
It is only when you are alive
That you begin dying.

Black and blue bruises
Hug me tighter than my own skin,
I wouldn't know I still had blood
If I still didn't bleed so much.

I should have drowned myself by now
If I could reach the sea.
But it is in my sadness
I learnt the opposite must exist.
I am waiting for the end
Then we will begin again.
 Mar 2018 Cam
Shanath
We look at them
And smile at their brilliance,

Do the stars look at us
And weep for our miseries?
I am gone
And now wish to be forgotten.

                               ( There was chaos to clean
                                                  Now I will read.)
 Mar 2018 Cam
Shanath
Buried my head within my arms
Leaned myself enough to see the white dog
Crouched and closed,
As if hugging himself
He was trying to beat the winter cold
And I, the cold of my heart
From seeping outside.

If the stars had been sleeping now
The poised old man
Would be out
With his cup of tea
And I, with my mug.
He would try to survive the silence of years
And I, to prolong the one going on.

I am not good with people,
I don't think he is.
But I connect to them both
In our silent stares.
Once I had waved to him,
Once alone,
And I click my tongue from here

Every time he barks for attention.
The stars are out now
Tomorrow afternoon,
For I will be away in the morning
Collecting sadness,
I will return and wave to him back,
Its time we both find people again.
Time is ample
My heart though, whimpers.


(I promise I will read.)
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