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Not Perfect

I’m not perfect.
Although that should be clear as water, sometimes I feel the need to state it. For myself and for others. Especially for others. It is probably my fault and in my actions. It’s probably something I do or don’t do. It’s probably because of the way I see the world and how I speak of it.
I am not perfect.
And I get tired.
And I give up too.
There are so many things I have given up and not looked back. There are so many things I have looked back but not regretted. There are so many things I regret too.
It’s entirely human. I believe.
Being a mess of so many things, not only good, not only bad, but everything. Not black or white but fifty shades of blue. And some purple, once you wear those rose colored glasses. On holidays. Or those real good days.
The days you hold on to with everything you got to keep moving forward. To keep moving. Even if only an inch or less. Even if to the sides or back. Just moving. Because life is made of movements, moments, actions and decisions you never really got to think through.
Life happens. But I digress.
I’m not perfect. And that’s fine. It’s entirely human, I believe.
What about you?
© Máh Lima


Photo by Ahmed Ashhaadh on Unsplash

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If Tomorrow I Die by Talin Likha

If tomorrow I die,

Would you come to say goodbye?

Would you come to see my face,

for one last time?

Would you then at last realize,

the love I had was true,

that even at my death-bed,

I’m still thinking of you.

 

If tomorrow I die,

without saying goodbye.

Would you miss me when I’m dead?

Please do miss me and be sad.

 

I’m being selfish, yes I know,

but it’ll give meaning to my goals.

It was to ‘Love’ you.

Just to love you, with my all.

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Nahi

I survived an earthquake
and my soul is still shaking inside
bones rattling
my heart beating too fast

 

what if I just trapped myself into a bigger mess
I survived an earthquake
I fought the earth
and the stars
I changed my way
I saved myself

 

and yet here I am
with hope hiding behind me
hoping to not be taken away
from the monstrous beast
depression that keeps
taunting me
telling me
stupid girl,
you were never meant to be happy
you were never meant to
have love that treated you right

 

and I don’t think I have it in me
to stand up again
to fight back
so I just whisper
I just whisper to myself
nahi nahi nahi

 

and someday I might
hold my self together
sew my self back up
and fight

 

but for now, I just whisper nahi

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If You Come, Love

Love,
if you come knocking at my door
turn the knob and enter
this time I won’t answer
I’m tired of rushing to greet only to get disappointed.

Love,
I’m sorry for giving up right on your turn
it’s unfair of me to judge you
based on the actions of the ones before
or their lack thereof.

Love,
it’s ok to make yourself at home
get acquainted with the lonely rooms
pay attention to where the shadows form
I’m tired of providing only sun
and blooming when there’s no one to care for.

Love,
if after all this you decide to stay
if despite all this you still want to make home
my heart is yours to tame
my soul is yours to love.

Love,
one last word of advice, though
beware of full moons.
The tides get high
and I’d hate to drown you too.

© Máh Lima


Photo by Albert Dera on Unsplash

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Becoming One

Our foreheads press together as we lie

Breath exhaled from your lungs becomes entangled with mine

I am enveloped by our intimacy

Secrets I’ve never shared sit tucked away in the shadows of my memory

Now they escape my mouth again

Into a place you’ve made safe

 

Our foreheads press together

Our breath becomes entangled

Our selves transform into one being

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Creative Juices

Creativity isn’t always beautiful. There is a desire in us as artists to share what we feel inside with the world; how can we do so when we can’t find the words ourselves? There isn’t always an easy road with which to release my emotions to words. It can be quite painful. That doesn’t make it any less meaningful.

“There are days when words and feelings pour out of me like a volcano. Aggressive and fierce, I stab through the lines on the page and rip it apart like my brain is ripping me. Then there are days when I can do nothing, My creative juices are dried up- I am breathing in coarse sand, I cough up ideas but also blood. It lines the paper all the same.”

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follow me on instagram @victimlessrhymes

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Hey Ma, I’m Your Son Always

Today I’ll tell you about Aarav Chopra. Why is he here now and not Ali Wadood? The answer is simply really, but I’ve lived a long story as Ali and I’m just closing the book on that part of it all.

My name is Aarav Chopra and I hold zero shame taking on my mother’s maiden name. Removing myself from the clenches of my past and finding peace in my true calling I feel home again.

My step dad cared for me as a child and for that I can not repay him. But, what am I to do as one who can’t even go the movies alone at the age he left. Let’s not dive into that too much. I’d rather give him the benefit of the doubt anyways. Maybe he had a better life to live and I hope he lives it to the fullest and, however he pleases. Here’s why I leave him now, I don’t wish a bad fortune on his name. I aim to no longer carry it. I choose to dump the skeleton left in me and become reborn as Aarav.

I may just reincarnate my living self in this life. Sending what I was away for the legacy in my mother’s maiden name. She is the sole purpose for me being here in this country. I’m a natural citizen of the United States of America. Extremely proud of it.

My lineage was to go away after us boys. My brother and I, the ones he changed. My uncle having only two daughters who are set for their true fate with love and new families. I control my fate and choose to more life with the Chopra name.

“What’s in a name? For which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.” Shakespeare said it then.

I’ve had it tattooed on me since I was 18. I knew then I could change and still be the man I am. Now I will hope to carry on the true immigrant journey. My mother is my rock and a she is a dual citizen in this world. Pretty bad ass Ma. Just know your son is keeping your name and we’re both here to leave a mark on this life.

I won’t let the family go. I won’t let the men who left us name me forever in a journey they’ll never bury me in. I’d rather honor the family name that brought me here in the first place.

Aarav Chopra

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How The Men I Dated Helped Destroy My Self-Image.

How The Men I Dated Helped Destroy My Self-Image.

Society has a real strong focus on self-love and how you only need yourself to be happy, and I get that, I really do. Society also acts like the relationships you have with others don’t have a toll on you. I started thinking about all the men I dated over the years and how badly they fucked me up. I decided to be so petty and call a couple out.

S: This was my first “real” boyfriend. I saw the world in him, that type of jazz. Turns out in the end he was a total piece of trash but any who. This was the man who simply couldn’t take no for an answer. This was the man who pushed me, and ripped my pants off of me after I said no a million times. This was the man who helped destroy my self-image by teaching me that the men who were supposed to love me couldn’t possibly respect me. This was the man who showed me how much I was really worth to him. How could I mean so little and how could someone have so little respect for me?
M: This one was probably the person who fucked me up the most in life. Well maybe even second. This was the man who promised me the world, promised me a future. This was the man who made me feel safe. This was also the man who left me by stating that he simply didn’t care about me anymore. This was the man who helped me destroy my self-image by proving to me that the worst thoughts I had about myself were real. Nobody hated me more than I hated myself. The thoughts inside my head kept me up at night, constantly thinking that I wasn’t enough, the love I had wasn’t desirable.
The men I dated have ruined my self-image in so many ways, whether it was calling someone fat who was a lot smaller than me, telling me how being assaulted made me broken, putting their hands on me with anything but love in mind.  The people I have met in life have really fucked me up along the way. I started to see myself the way these men treated me, I dated so many cowards that treated me like trash that I simply began to believe love wasn’t real, love was just something Hollywood made up to make a couple billion dollars.
I dated so many men who simply didn’t know how to love me, and it made me believe I wasn’t worth loving, my self-image was already fucked up from having anxiety and depression but the relationships I had with these men just put fuel to the fire.
I write a ton about self-love because I spent years not being able to love myself and with men who just couldn’t love me. I saw these broken men and tried to fix them, and that was such a mistake. I was trying to fix these boys who didn’t want to be fixed, who grew fond of making a joke out of me.
Self-love takes a very long time after dealing with abusive men and awful relationships, I have not mastered self-love yet and if you haven’t either that is okay, you’re not undesirable just because you haven’t mastered self-love yet. I promise someone is going to love the shit out of you. Keep going.

Scars heal.

 

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Top 10 Posts of 2017— No. 1

The Night-Long Lament: Contemplation & Prayer

IG: @shadesofherink

Read other work by Samihah at:

GenreUrbanArts.com

 

Warm tear drops kiss my hand on this cold night. The sky is tinged with a deep purple, a quiet purple. Even amongst the stars, there is only silence. I envy anyone who is able to find direction using them, to see a compass in darkness. I merely see what is before me. Three in a row, four on the outskirts forming a misshapen rectangle. Two more, faded, somewhere in the middle of it all. Orion’s belt. I could never forget constellations after my first time recognising them. Only, this time, I felt forgotten by them. Neglected. They are still. You feel silent to me today. This water is cold as well, in the deep end of it where I sit. Water is supposed to feel warmer on the skin after some time. I have been sitting here for a while, a long while. Waiting. I have been waiting. The moon is nowhere to be seen. Not a slither of its light shows for as far as I can see.

The moon captured slightly behind clouds
                                                                                     A slither of light

Tonight I am in darkness surviving off the somber glow of these stars alone. Tonight, I am small and the universe is too vast to consider this humbled being. This search for guidance has rendered me unnerved. Unheard. I am screaming, from my lungs through my eyes and I know I am not loud enough. I am gentle. I am excruciatingly soft. The wind will travel skies carrying my cry to the heavens and I will still be waiting for You to answer me, my Lord. I cannot hear You or see You or feel You in this moment, however long this moment may last but I believe, fiercely.

You are listening

and I will wait.

– Samihah Pargas