OH FORGIVE ME MY LORD, FOR WHAT I HAD DONE. WHAT ON THE SELF, EXODUS 13. MY WRISTS AND MY HANDS, COVERED IN BLOOD. WAS I SELF AWARE OF WHAT I HAD DONE? YOU TOLD ME THAT I WAS "SO SELFISH!" YOU TOLD ME THAT "YOU ARE JUST CARELESS!" OH AND WHO IS NOW? THE ONE WHO CRIED BENEATH THE MOON, OR THE ONE WHO FAILED TO NOTICE THE BRUISE? OH, AND THE BLADE, FOR IT TO BE CLEAN, IT WILL NEVER BE, FREE OUT OF YOUR SIN. OH, AND REMINDER YOU WON'T, JUST GRIEVE ME ON MY GRAVE. FOR WHAT I HAD DONE. ON THE SPECIAL OCCASION, THAT IS WHAT YOU WILL DO. G R I E V E. And for what i have known... My lord you are not, The one who exists, who will save this, our world.

trapped beneath 
careless, reckless

autumn gold
material love

pros and cons
over frozen ponds

i am justified
and never validated

you get it now?
the stillest cloud
and dry pavement

never rained
and still gray

I have watched the green in your eyes

the exact shade of the nature you explore–

moss after rain,

new leaves uncurling in the understory,

the quiet places you walk when the world feels too loud.

Your skin is pale

like the flowers that insist on blossoming in snow,

delicate and certain,

refusing to wait for warmer weather.

I have imagined moonlight resting there

the way it rests on fresh petals,

soft and almost translucent.

And your hair –

red like the ladybug you love so much,

bright against the dark,

small and fierce and impossible to ignore.

I have pictured it flying

while you spin under a low moon,

someone’s hands steady at your waist,

someone tall enough to make the night feel safe.

I am not that someone.

I know this the way I know the soft hum

that remains when your voice is gone.

I spelled your favorite flower in the quiet air

while you sat beside me at the piano.

A song neither of us had to search for.

The notes rose and fell

and for a moment the classroom felt like a clearing

where nothing could be taken from us.

The look you gave me then

was worth more than any language I will ever learn.

You forgot the summer talks.

Seven concussions will do that.

But I kept every word.

I kept the way you light a room

simply by walking into it.

I kept the scarf you were knitting in class

and hoped, quietly, that it turned out as beautiful

as the girl who made it.

I kept the sound of your laugh

and the way your heart still believes

in dancing in the rain

and being called beautiful before a first kiss.

You want someone who notices everything.

Someone who would read the notes app

and the Pinterest board labeled “my future husband.”

Someone who understands that love is quiet and gentle

and stays through the ordinary days.

You want forget-me-nots and daffodils and daisies

in a bouquet that matches your stature.

I am not tall enough.

Not handsome enough.

Not the kind of man your eyes have already decided on.

So I will never say the three words

that live in my chest like a second heartbeat.

It would be unfair

to hand you a love you did not ask for

from someone you barely know

the way I know you.

Still, every moment we share

feels like something I am already losing.

You sit next to me and think nothing of it.

I sit next to you and memorize the air –

the red of your hair like a ladybug in flight,

the pale of your skin like snow-blooming flowers,

the green of your eyes like the wild places you love.

I hope the man you eventually choose

knows how to dance.

I hope he lets that ladybug-red hair fly

and holds you as if the moon itself

asked him to be careful.

I hope he brings you flowers

that remember your name

even when you forget the small things.

And if one day you no longer remember mine,

I will not mind.

I only ask that the story you tell your children

is soft and bright and true.

A high-school love pretty enough

to make them believe the world

can still be kind.

I will keep the piano.

I will keep the sign language.

I will keep the green of your eyes

the way some people keep photographs

they never show anyone.

You deserve the fairytale.

I was only ever the quiet chapter

that loved you too carefully

to ask for a place in the ending.

​

Holidays are something I'm starting to dread.

Everytime he starts to verbally demolish them...

I see blue and red.

These are times I hold close to my heart.

Maybe because it's the only time my family didn't really fall apart.

But nonetheless. Year after year now, I'm in distress.

A day for lovers, cringe and bleak, says we can celebrate any day of the week.

That day never comes.

Mother's day is over priced, over crowded and kinda dumb.

Fathers day isn't celebrated enough, dads always firing up the grill and cooking the grub.

Halloween being my favorite, the pumpkins, the costumes the night of fright, you never forget . . . Is a waste and weird and takes up too much space.

Thanksgiving I can understand.. it's made off of stolen land.

Christmas, it's a scheme... For the money hungry... And full of greed. . .

Even birthdays Im starting to hate .. years of this, matter of fact, 8.

It's always the same. As they approach he starts his misery game.

Why can't we have these holidays... To be together and celebrate family? Why does it always have to make me clamy?

As they approach, he nags and gnaws at them like a roach. It's annoying, it's hurtful, it's disheartening, it's awful. .

All year. Every year... It never fails. I'm growing accustom to the derail. Is he doing this on purpose? I'm giving up, I guess.

I Hate you today

You woke up and knew only anger

Knew only hatred

Knew only how to hurt

Knew only to push everyone away

I hate you and I hate that I do this to you

I hate that you can't change

That you make excuses

That you blame others

That you wallow in the ankle deep oceans you create

I hate you because I can’t care or help you enough

And you tell me that everyday. 

I hate that you look in that mirror and stare at me and say you are okay.

Everything you say that

I hate you again all over today.

Yet another night
Where I keep drifting in my own misery
Where I hate who I've become 
While I can't seem to remember who I used to be 

Sipping on my drink
As I continue wondering if it will ever end
If I'm strong enough to make it 
And if I'll even be alive to witness my soul mend 

Yes, I'm rambling... 
Hearing people whispering "You'll be fine!"
I wish I could shut them out
But the voices never fail to be back in due time

No, I'm not crazy... 
I'm just replaying things I've been told
Hoping they'll hit differently
But they still feel so utterly empty and cold

Maybe I'm doomed
Because I hate myself so damn much
Because I'm filled with poison
That kills every good emotion it dares to touch

Yet another break
Where I keep falling for my toxic mind
Where I let it control me
While I can't seem to run from the things I find

Taking the last gulp
As I continue wondering if this is all I'll ever be
If I'll keep on losing my way
And if I'll ever stop telling myself that this is the real me

I saw you standing alone in the dark, with only the darkness to be friends.
I walked by only to see the broken heart you carry alone at night..
I saw you standing alone in the dark, the darkness that is alive all around.

tastes like that bitter medicine my mother made me drink.

The spoon held by my mother.

My jaws clenched.

The medicine shoved in my throat.

I didn't like it, but it cured me.

Sometimes it feels necessary.

Sometimes it's the only way to comfort yourself,

sometimes the only way to know yourself.

For some, it is the medicine.

For some, it is the disease.

Some got none on their back,

some got everyone,

still no one can escape this experience.

Bounded by the ideas others formed about you,

ideas that shape your personality,

which somehow isn't even yours.

Seeing yourself through others' eyes

and believing it's really you.

For some, it is.

For some, it is only possible when they are six feet under,

when they are ash,

or when the river has them.

Could notice the leaf falling,

could notice the clock ticking,

could feel the gust of wind blowing,

could hear the heart speaking.

The domain ruled by silence,

thoughts running like the blood in the veins.

Some want it like how Pi wanted that tiger to return.

Devoured in it completely,

some call it peace,

some call it loneliness.

Some see it as getting separated,

some see it as giving time to oneself.

Brain stops,

something greater than brain,

something that rules the brain awakens.

Please forgive me.
I failed you.

You were supposed to dream.
To imagine.
To feel safe enough
to wonder what you might become.

You were supposed to be a child.

But I couldn’t do anything.

I watched you endure things
no child should have had to endure.
I watched you get screamed at
over the smallest things,
learn to fear the sound of footsteps,
and wonder what you had done wrong
this time.

I wanted so badly
to do something to help you.

To stand between you and the hurt.
To tell you that you hadn’t deserved it.
To take your hand
and lead you somewhere safe.

But I couldn’t.

I watched you cry.
Watched you get hurt.
Watched you learn to expect pain
where you should have found comfort.

And I keep coming back to that question.

Why didn’t I do something?

Why didn’t I protect you?

Why did I let you believe
that this was what you deserved?

I know the answer.

I know I was only a child.
I know I had no way
to change what was happening.
I know you were never mine to blame.

But knowing something
doesn’t always make it easier to feel.

Because when I look back,
I don’t just see what happened to you.

I see myself standing there,
wishing I could have been
someone who could save you.

And I hate that I couldn’t.

I’m sorry
for every dream you put aside
because you were too busy
trying to get through another day.

I’m sorry for every moment
you spent wondering
what was wrong with you
when the fault was never yours.

I’m sorry that you learned
to survive before you learned
what it meant to feel safe.

And I’m sorry
that when he died,
you didn’t know what to do
with the world that came afterward.

You were so young.

You didn’t understand
what had happened,
or why everything felt different,
or why someone who had been there
was suddenly gone.

You didn’t cry at the funeral.

And maybe people thought
that meant you didn’t understand.

But you did understand
that something had changed.

You just didn’t know
how to understand it.

And when you finally learned
what his death meant,
you turned the blame toward yourself.

You found a way
to make his absence your fault,
as if a child could somehow
be responsible for losing a parent.

You never told anyone.

Because your brother was hurting, too.
You saw him crying at night,
carrying a guilt that wasn’t his,
and somehow you decided
there wasn’t room for yours.

So you swallowed your grief.

You kept your questions quiet.
You kept your guilt to yourself.
You tried to carry something
you were never supposed to carry alone.

And I wish I could go back
and tell you something.

I wish I could sit beside you
and let you cry without explaining yourself.

I wish I could tell you
that you didn’t have to understand death
to grieve someone you loved.

That not crying doesn’t mean
you didn’t care.

That your brother’s pain
didn’t leave you any less deserving
of comfort.

That you didn’t have to hide your hurt
to make room for his.

I wish I could tell you
that none of it was your fault.

Not his death.
Not the way you were treated.
Not the things you couldn’t stop.
Not the things you were too young
to understand.

You were a child.

You were supposed to be protected.
You were supposed to be comforted.
You were supposed to have someone
who could tell you
that the world had not become cruel
because you had done something wrong.

You were never supposed
to save yourself.

And you were never supposed
to save everyone else, either.

So please,
forgive me.

Not because I deserve forgiveness
for failing to protect you.

But because I’m beginning to understand
that I didn’t fail you.

I was you.

I was the child who wanted to help
and didn’t know how.
The child who wanted to escape
and didn’t know where to go.
The child who needed someone
to tell him he was worth protecting.

I was never the person
who should have been responsible
for saving you.

I was the person
who needed saving, too.

And I’m sorry
that it took me so long
to understand the difference.

I’m sorry for all the years
I looked back at you
and saw someone who couldn’t help,
instead of a child
who needed help himself.

You deserved so much more
than what you were given.

You deserved a childhood
that belonged to you.

You deserved to dream.

And even though I can’t go back
and give you the life you should have had,
I can stop blaming you
for the one you were forced to live.

I can stop asking
why you didn’t fight harder.

I can stop asking
why you couldn’t save us.

And maybe,
little by little,
I can learn to look at you
with the same compassion
I would give any other child
who had been through what you endured.

You didn’t fail me.

You never did.

And I’m sorry
I made you carry that blame
for so long.

Please forgive me.

I was only a child, too.

My skies are gray.

They lack any colour today.

I awoke to the rain.

Feeling melancholy.

Why, why again today?

It shouldn't be this way.

Then I feel your hand on my mine.

I want to pull away but your warmth.

Your kind embrace.

I see the sun finally shine.

Maybe I'll be okay today.

Just don't stop holding my hand please.

I need you.

I need that today.

To keep melancholy away.

I need you to bring back the sun back out when I can't find it some days

Fahmi Badayuni

Baby, if I could take back every tear you cried,
Every sleepless night, every time I hurt you inside,
I would give anything to undo the pain,
To hold you close and never put you through it again.
You loved me through my darkest days,
Even when addiction led me down destructive ways.
While I was fighting battles deep within,
I hurt the very heart that stood by me through everything.
And God, if you only knew how much that breaks me,
Knowing my choices hurt the one who loved me so deeply.
You deserved my honesty, my love, my best,
Not the pain and disappointment that left your heart distressed.
I know that saying sorry can't erase the past,
And I know rebuilding trust takes time to last.
But I'm fighting to become the woman I know I can be,
The woman you deserve, the woman I lost inside of me.
I'm sorry, baby, for the hurt I've caused your heart.
I'm sorry my struggles tore at what we built from the start.
I can't change yesterday, no matter how hard I try,
But I'll spend tomorrow showing you the truth behind my cries
I love you more than these words can ever show,
And I'm sorry for the pain I never meant for you to know.

Ouroboros chasing its tail

Repeating without fail

False path chosen

Forced into the light

Consumed by Leviathan

Life wasted

Lessons unlearned

Repeat the first grade

Back to school

Shall we ever graduate Samsara?

Snakes and Ladders

Back to square one

Me who am I today, tomorrow?

Me wondering am i connected

Me, a feeble mind

Not in body, enveloped in a chasm

of rejection

Me who hates the void,

Me me me me

Within me a sorrowful timid

little boy

I wear a cloak you cannot see.

I put it on before I leave.

I look in the mirror, then off I go.

Hiding more than I'll ever show.

I smile. I laugh. I play my part.

While numbness tightens around my heart.

I move through the day, I look just fine.

No one can see me corroding inside.

It does its job and hides me well.

They can only see my outside shell.

There's so much inside,

I don't know where to start

I'm scared if I feel it,

My whole life falls apart.

They see everything I manage to do,

But not what it takes just to make it through.

They see all the pieces, in the right place,

Not the effort it takes to keep up this face.

I keep myself quiet so nothing will break.

I swallow my feelings for everyone's sake.

I fold the laundry, make the bed,

Choking on words I never said.

I check my phone, then put it back down,

Find something to clean and keep moving around.

Can't stop to think, I avoid my own mind,

It's gotten so natural pretending I'm fine.

I have to stop the feelings before they begin,

I know what happens if I let them all in.

I keep myself busy. I call it being strong.

Not thinking about it helps me believe nothing's wrong.

I change my clothes. Get ready for bed.

My body's exhausted, but never my head.

I take off the cloak and the thoughts rush in,

Now I wait for tomorrow to put it back on again.

I used to write poetry in my teens. Usually some dark stuff. I'm 42 and these words just came to me so I had to write it down. Please let me know what you think.

I find comfort in the chaos

I feel calm within the storm

I never feel quite like myself

But when trouble is the norm

I never feel quite seen or heard

I never feel quite known

I never feel accompanied

But when I am alone

Mute and quiet feel like pain

Silence feels like hell

Treading water feels like death

But when the ocean swells

When treading for so long and far

When drifting out to sea

When swimming with no end in sight

But when it swallows me

Please yell and scream and fill the void

Please summon all the noise

Please dodge the peace and damn the ease

But with your risen voice