What’s Left Behind

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What’s Left Behind

~

Your body a river

flowing smoothly through my mind,

on sleepless nights in the heat

of summer, evaporating streams

of wants I trace your shape in dreams

weaved in desires I can’t define

once awake-

And how do I keep you inside?

Once gone an empty space

retains the imprint

of far lost kisses, your gentle face

to haunt my days,

the empty space my nights-

H.O


“I felt her absence. it was like waking up one day with no teeth in your mouth. you wouldn’t need to run to the mirror to know they were gone”

― James Dashner, The Scorch Trials

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Of sleepless nights

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Of sleepless nights

~

You shared my bed, but what a stranger

to my ink on empty spaces

of what is left but scattered traces

of hidden kisses and fleeting love-

And death is same as to forget

my heart still beats

when does not skip for anyone,

is it the same to be alive?

If maybe then just to survive

I’ll sip my wine on sleepless nights

then walk around on empty streets

in search of you my dearest one-

H.O


“sometimes i don’t know, which moment

which cool gust of wind will come,

and enchant me

tousling my hair

and my heart,

stirring…that familiar ache of poetry,

which drop will kiss

the old wrench in my soul

reminding me, all over again

i miss you better in the rain.”

 

― Sanober Khan, A Thousand Flamingos

Seasons of a Heart

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Seasons of a Heart

~

If love was the reasons

it does no matter the seasons

residing inside my heart-

Sometimes flowers would adorn

every crevice and every niche

I left openly bared

for a spring of new affairs

where hope could then again borne ,

while autumn with a sudden switch

brings a wind of despairs

washed away in summer waves,

confusing thoughts to impart

a sadness into a winter

freezing my will to go on,

but I know my heart behaves

differently through my seasons

with spring drawing so near

and hope to reappear,

it does not matter the seasons

residing inside my heart-

H.O


“The heart has its reasons which reason knows not.”

― Blaise Pascal

This Ache

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This Ache

~

You leave me dazzled lost in place

aching deeply for a life far from reach.

But the torture of this ache feels so sweet

like a drug needing more,

so much more to embrace

when I scream but yet discreet

keep the burning deep inside

while my heart wants to defy

spread its wings and simply soar,

take your name upon my lips

and call out loud

this ache for you that’s not allowed

but keeps on thriving.

H.O


“I am inhabited by a cry. Nightly it flaps out Looking, with its hooks, for something to love.”

― Sylvia Plath

Looking (We go on)

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Looking (We go on)

~

And I go on looking

for the one to touch places never touched before,

a hundred years of loneliness for one day in her arms

(a day in the realm of time another hundred years)

And you go on looking

for the one that holds the other missing part

and will chart all his dreams on a map of your heart

(only part of your dreams as you carry his half)

And we go on looking

never finding roads leading straight to each other

as we share the same sky and walk the same earth

(only twice, once for you and once for me)

our dreams run aground, our rivers run dry

our search for each other, no hello, no goodbye

parallel akin paths never meet one another-

H.O


“I felt you before I knew of your existence, maybe it was a hint from the universe to continue on the yellow brick road, so when I would find you along my travels I would simply just know.”

― Nikki Rowe

Barren

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Barren

~

And my life half composed left me barren,

love must sprout from the tenderness of kisses

and the softness of a touch-

Desolated once again my bed an island

in the middle of an ocean of desires

left untouched-

And I drowned many times in the flesh

of passing lovers,

and I burned in the flames of blazing fires

to be left once again lone and barren

in an ocean of desires

left untouched-

H.O

“And the danger is that in this move toward new horizons and far directions, that I may lose what I have now, and not find anything except loneliness.”
― Sylvia Plat