When you left I looked for you
in all the faces I saw,
in every crowded street,
in all the places we had been.
When you left I finally understood
forever is but a moment
and happiness is usually hidden away
in all the small things.
When you left I learned so much
about myself and my defense mechanisms
about my lack of self-esteem
about all the little annoying things that made me.
I cried at first.
I felt such void.
When you left
I thought life was over.
So I should thank you,
for showing me myself,
for showing me I’m stronger than that
for letting me know there’s so much more to life than you.
© Máh Lima
Photo by Eric Nopanen on Unsplash
when the seeds of doubt start sprouting
they become weeds that overwhelm my garden
and bleed into the soil. Continue reading out of whack
the surrounding clutter
fallen from mouths
dissipates into silence
lulled by the gaze of your eyes
fall into me deeply
whether others perceive
as it was inscribed
and sliced into my dermis
Peculiarly is of no consequence
and every consequence
You on my lips
I must have that one thing-
At some point communication was ignored.
The pain rose like the sun, every single day
Every time a word was said
It was meant to cause more pain.
Silence was like air
But minds were too loud,
Too loud to hear what was said behind it all.
Because pain kept rising with the sun
And refused to set
And at some point silence was all they had
When they got so caught up in the self
They forgot the meaning of “us”
With the ego constantly screaming “I”.
And the light that only shone from the hurt
Couldn’t illuminate two broken hearts.
© Máh Lima
Photo by Daniil Kuželev on Unsplash
gives us shine
needs your shine
you are the center
the sky wishes
that it could be filled
-J. Bright Jr. | @thatguywhowrote
Justify. Such an apologetic word.
Nonetheless–yes, I’ve used a transition,
to transition to the fact that we are justifiable.
Do you need to see me to know I am smiling?
Of course not. You are more than aware that
your green makes me bloom and let go of any
frequency of fear that may frequent my space.
What is it that you want out of this world?
Go to the zenith of your thoughts and
tell me what you deem momentous.
I need to know what pushes you to feel
alive to the point that it’s near deadly.
Isn’t that how life juts out and meddles with time?
It pushes us to feel like it exists differently, more naive.
And yet, we sit and meander through our thoughts
in order to turn over the real beauty that surrounds us.
I hold still to the belief in love and light,
your eyes more bright and telling than
a crystal or a merciful dawn.
Photo Credit: Lanaya
Born To It
a poem is conceived in private
much like a child
the wild, Holy consummation, all consuming
born of love
but bearing so much pain and suffering,
muffled cries, truths and lies,
sometimes the difference is hard to find.
I was born with bated breath,
fresh and clean,
once they wiped off the blood and amniotic fluid
and cut the cord
scissors like a sword
severing the most sacred connection
that I will ever know.
I was born to it
and there is no place quite like home.
What is Poetry? – part 3
Poetry doesn’t necessarily rhyme,
it just climbs out of the mind,
out of a recess in time,
obsessed with success
and blind to the cold shoulder it usually finds.
It’s a mess, it’s sublime,
it’s a knife as a prize,
it is life in the eyes,
it is death, of a kind,
it’s leaving something behind,
it’s caressing the past
and the future that lies,
dormant though brooding
Who says poetry is dead?