They want us silent.
If you are quiet
You are complacent.
Never questioning what’s unclear
Accepting only their truth.
I miss us.
I miss how our bodies move
How our thoughts connect.
I miss how we move in sync
How we met each other’s yearnings. Continue reading I am Missing you
I made him my god
What a dangerous thing!
He didn’t belong there…
He kept returning.
It was my fault
I knew he didn’t belong there
But I couldn’t help myself.
Such a dangerous thing
To put man before God.
It looks like love
Sweet and uncertain
Beautiful and messy.
It makes sense
It becomes confusing again. Continue reading What It Looks Like
Make your wishbones
tie your ghosts to the tree and
let the wind carry them where you
Black glows in the dark
as imitation dry heaves,
leaving guilt on its sleeves
wiping white illness on walls,
kneeling with greed in
its knees, not realizing
where it’s coming from or
the fact that Black is entitled
to no one but Her people.
Black glazed rapture,
painting with glow dripping
from their hands and their
actions before, during & after,
Smearing magic and rhythm
of all motions and nations in
hip revolutions & revelations with
Life at their command.low,
He graced me with a perfect smile upon his face
As he placed the most magical kiss lips can taste
Mending all my broken bones together
His presence couldn’t be detained by any weather
All of the bullet wounds surrounding my heart
Reminding me of the way I fell apart
Love will send your mind spiraling in the dark hours of the night
Reminiscing on all of the times you had to put up a fight
Demanding for him to stay
Yet all they tend to do is begin to run away
That is why our magnificent kiss haunts me in my dreams
Sadly love never is the way it seems
As much as I hoped this time would be different
I know deep in my core that it isn’t
I watch as the spot in my driveway remains empty
As you continue to love on plenty
Leaving them wondering deeply in their souls
Why their minds were left souring from their control
They fell for your same tricks
That you applied just as smoothly as the kiss you placed upon my lips
I knew I should of ran from the start
My mother always told me I was smart
I still am baffled in the way you managed to get under my skin
Why do people like you always have to win?
But I have learned my lesson this time around
As the scars you left on me are no longer profound
I will soon be ready to love again
As I no longer view my broken bones as a sin.
I’m trying to silence the voices
that tell me you don’t care.
They ring loudly in my ear.
They shout to me.
They tell me to stop wasting my time.
But I don’t listen.
-how to seduce the night, Rio de Janeiro 2016
On a rooftop in a rainstorm
he kissed the night into being.
High above the city of sleepless dreams
he gathered moonlight on his fingertips,
and cast love upon the midnight hued sky.
To a chorus of thunder and gunshots
he seduced the night
and made love to the stars.
I have not forgotten what it feels like
to become the calm after a storm.
March 3, 2018
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
are what caused or causes
these feelings I feel
and these thoughts I think.
I hope my cries echo through your mind at night
When the world has muted and all you can do is think
I hope you think of me
I hope you think of the way you made my heart bleed
The way that you would set my soul on fire
Continue reading “Fire Starter” by Sarah James
If you knew how
I’d cry walking along the river
Tears leaking behind my sunglasses
After you’d left
Would never have said those pretty lies to me.
If you knew how
I’d break into so many pieces
I’m still finding pieces of that girl I once knew
Under my bed and in the back of the sofa
Would never have attempted to love me.
You both shouldn’t have bothered.
Sorrow has scored its lines into my face
Silver is growing from my head
I’m fed up of photos that show eyelids puffy from tears
Because I cry before, after, and during everything I do.
Yet would either of you have stayed
if you knew that worst was yet to come?
Who knew that I’d break and then
break some more
until all there is left of me is
and grains of salt.
Truly, right now I think
You shouldn’t have bothered.
And yes, I survived those other tears,
That old heartache
and all the other bullshit life had to offer.
But honestly, my love
If that is all
to give to me.
You shouldn’t have bothered.
(Photo by Kinga Cichewicz on Unsplash)
O birds of hope
don’t flock to migrate
a less hurried gait
Let’s pick our crops
soft and mellow
Before joys rust
and turn to yellow
We’ll gather grins,
plum and ripen
No squandered tears,
ample dreams brighten
Our diligent pursuit,
we’re creatures awake
For when life’s frost bites,
Let’s tap and dance
in a feast of harvest
while the scarlet disc
gives in to darkness
The sun shall tilt
dropping her last golden locks
The mist will fill
to chill empty docks
Perched larks of glee,
chirp for me till dawn
Sweet songs to echo
through a season forlorn.
By Rania D.
I’ve been floating above the ground
while my bones shake,
& my mind races,
& my hands
play tense melodies
across lonely spines.
(Photo by Piotr Wilk on Unsplash)
Read my poetry and you’ll know
We no longer share the same spaces,
places mix with traces of you
Familiar albums sound so foreign,
I was left without a clue
We parted like the Nile,
after years of streaming lakes
Continue reading “In poetry and no more” by Alnaika