Everyone else failed me except you,Mere machines buzzing with constant sound of self-destruction,they mortified me too, love.Their wounds opened and healed in my hands,My body clock ticks only to bring waterto deserted lands.And when these hostile beasts I’ve loved after youcome aliveto vapor their flux down on me again,I come back.You appear to be everywhere…
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Unrequited love through a poem titled, “Colorful Game Booth.” By Ana Surguladze, a poetry editor with Flora Fiction.
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I can’t even handle chaos offbeat,coming from the endless loop of uncertaintyI thrive,just by knowing when your time to leave arrives.If others had the hiding spot for their thoughts about me,you won’t get the chance.I memorized how to calculate feelings from hesitant, completely pale, glance.My teeth barricades thunder that comes in words,step out of your…
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Violet tree grows next to my bed,and I lay staring through the vibrancy of its color.If bees are to fly around one day,I hope they sting me, hurt me, I hope they find their way.I have to be born again,because this is how I drained,I’m guilty of spilling my briskness all over the place.I want…
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A note from the author to the author:do not be a coward. At what speed do I have to move to outrunwarmth,fading red of pomegranate tree I just noticed,buzzing sounds of carsthat murmur candy-sweet rush into my ears.Where’s the destination for glowing?When looking at my hands means knowing-their brittleness is the void you calmly stare…
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He knows his emotional traumas are safe with me,because he’s one of mineand instead of fussing over him,I dive deep into self-blame.He knows his victim agony is a cancelled show,I sold the tickets and bought them back one by one too.His room has the thickest walls on earth,how else could I hear this silent torment…
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I call life a water tank.It continuously leaks from every little corner:my niece’s love,my mother’s art,my father’s tears when his father passed away.I’m clueless, no one has taught me how to put duct tapes to right places,how to stop things from overflowing,how not to overflow myself.These tiny water drops are calling me to join their…
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Doomed to die,I learned to enjoy the sound of explosives.My tears are fireworks,my sorrow’s a guide.The streets are the war scenes andI won’t put up a fight.My thoughts in slow motion,buildings falling apart,your face on the banners,but someone’s tearing it down.And so, it starts,I become the dispassionate observer of your eyes,again.
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I’m a peaceful hurricane and the safest nuclear weapon,a drought in the desert,and a flood in the ocean.I’m the sun that shines but never burns your skin,A drunk driver – who comes out at nightAnd pretends she had lost the keys.I’m a love junkie,living with constant need to give loveand constant worry of receiving it…
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