“Are you okay?”
No. My best friend of 13 weeks has refused to talk to me, refused to look at me, refused to watch me dance, refused to have any human contact with me and she’s interacting with everyone around her even a person she hates and she’s so much better at dancing now than she was when we were like twist ties and her mom read our texts about suicide and self harm and writing poetry and now her phone is gone for what has now been two weeks and she’s told other people about it except me and I’m scared for my life about what I’ve done and how I’m going to solve it and I hope she’s doing okay even though I’m not because I cant even watch her dance without shedding a single tear and I guess she’s better off without me because she’s improved a lot more than she ever would’ve when we were best friends and I’m now realizing no one knowing her feelings and her thoughts and plans of suicide was good for her because now she can’t talk to the one who knew everything and I’m now seeing that I’m the soil to every problem imaginable.
“Yeah, just stressed about my math grade.”
“It’s okay, it’s just a grade. Grades don’t define you.”
but she does.
Departing this life needs to be far more
About what we leave; not what's left.
Upon my demise, what is left behind
Will not be what I would be leaving.
Things left would not be the source
Nor the essence of my believing.
Careless observations are deceiving.
Beware of what our lives are teaching.
Although my leaving will bring grieving,
And what is left can be most helpful,
I pray that what I leave will bring rejoicing;
That the life lived will be a source of healing.
May there be gifts that keep on giving;
Eternal qualities that will not be fading.
After you left,
I found the jar on the kitchen shelf,
lid gone,
its mouth taking in the afternoon.
At four, the window
set a square of sun inside it.
For twenty minutes
the glass looked occupied.
I began keeping that hour clear.
I left the blinds half-open,
moved the chair out of its path,
turned the jar a finger-width
as the sun shifted lower.
Nothing else in the room
received such care.
Soon, I stopped asking
what the jar could keep.
It held only my attention
until the light moved on.
Still, I washed it.
Still, I returned it to the same mark
on the sill.
By winter,
clouds began arriving before I did.
The jar showed me the room
bent through its empty walls:
the table,
the cold tap,
my own hand passing behind the glass.
I put it back on the highest shelf
and stopped waiting for four.
Weeks later, at dusk,
I saw the jar again.
The room had darkened inside it
before it darkened around me.
For once,
I left it where it was
and watched nothing disappear.
When I came home from a long walk, my door was a little open.
I thought you had shown up to talk, but then I felt more heartbroken
As I thought you wouldn't, for how cruelly I spoken.
Bare minimum?
Yes, I somehow learned to settle for it.
But woe to the debt of sorries I owe to myself.
Woe to the promises I tore up with my own hands.
What a love, so full of sorrow and despair!
Oh, what am I still doing
in a house once filled with love,
now empty?
The love has gone,
but resentment has moved in.
-LilitaWaliWrites??
I left the curtains open for you
Just in case you decide to visit
If you ever decide you want to see how things are going,
I left the curtains open for you.
If you ever want to see how far I’ve come since we last spoke
I left the curtains open for you
The curtains are always open
But the window is locked.
And so is the door
I don’t want you to come back in
I didn’t want you to know you were welcome
The curtains are always open
Even though I doubt you’ll ever pass by the window.
Left behind like the wind
May be not too far away
left behind like the wind
Like the moon light shadows me
Everywhere I go
There is a piece of agony
That follows me
Left behind like the wind
A stream that rushes in my body
Not knowing what to do
Fireflies dance in my head
yet no light in my mind
Left behind like the wind
Where the stone is stuck deep inside
Even a single leaf so still, not to move
as the leaf of life sleeps upon my lips
Left behind like the wind
You came into my life
like a hunger I never knew I had,
and somehow
I began craving something
I could never have.
There was something beautiful
about the danger in you,
something I knew
I should stay away from,
yet still found myself
walking closer.
Maybe I saw myself in you.
The darkness,
the loneliness,
the parts we keep hidden
behind a smile.
You were never mine,
but somehow
you left pieces of yourself
inside me.
And now I wonder—
was I drawn to you
because you were different,
or because you carried
the same emptiness
I had been trying to hide?
Maybe some people
are not meant to stay.
Maybe they're only meant
to awaken something in us,
then leave us
to deal with the hunger
they created.
And if that's what you were—
I still don't regret
meeting you.
Anguish is made of thunder today.
Ate me up like an X-ray.
Spit me out like trash you can chew.
Is there anything brains can’t do?
If this poisonous grip could let me go.
I could be a magician, I know.
But antidotes don’t exist these days.
Everything is tied up in delays.
I think my possessions let me behind.
I think it was my old bedroom who signed.
It started when my bedroom got sick of me.
Couldn’t tie me to a tree.
No, it’s never you leaving your stuff back there.
And yeah, I snuck in delusions in my hair.
There are two Americas today
One that puts its faith in the system
The other that puts it in the people
The first is the Left
The second is the Right
And this is the way it has always been
One side relying on the power of the State
To impose its will on the individual
The other side relying on the individual
To build, protect, support and celebrate this nation
The irony of course is the system
Relies on, and feeds off of these very individuals
One side wants to tear this nation down
To rebuild it in a vision of hope and change
The other wants to build on its traditional foundation
To simply make it great again
And make it even better
The Left and Right are not two wings
Of a single birds
Not two sides of one coin
They are instead two fundamentally different
Visions of what is right and wrong
What is the light and the dark
America, we are at a crossroad
What will it be, fun and freedom
Or anxiety, depression and terror of tyranny
(9/9/26)
Judas Iscariot, Brutus, and Cassius are not divine as one slumped over heathen often stressed, nor are they wicked as they have been deemed, under that same heathen who often cracks seeds which are eggs which are buried in the summery earth, the beast of the earth has failed here first, and so we see now that we have left his lie to die, and he injured, morally, spiritually and physically must soon lie, and so his original serpent-eating lie from which the loop so familiar is real, that serpent feeding on itself, was part of his zeal.
As if it never left
And though your love has departed
and drifts further away with the passing years,
in dreams it remains ever close to you—
as if it were never absent.
In dreams, the past returns;
within the embrace of absence,
the heartbeat echoes more powerfully—
love’s most beautiful resonance,
as if it never fell silent.
And if your love should one day return,
changed by the years spent apart,
never speak to it of your dream—
as if it never left.
Dancing blind is what they called us,
we both had two left feet.
I moved on the dance floor,
then she followed me gracefully.
Awkward it became,
as they laughed at us.
We did not care,
as we held each other tight in love.
In love with each other,
in love with the rhythm of the music.
In our last big turn,
our canes showed.
The room went silent,
only the music could be heard.
Now they knew we were blind,
but not by the music or by our feet.
I borrowed an ancient and beautiful name,
To bury my grief in another’s old shame.
For they were promised a dawn to arrive,
While I had to learn how to bleed and survive.
A golden swan carried their love through the skies,
And she chose her true king through the gods in disguise.
A dark game of dice stripped his crown and his land,
And he fled in the forest, letting go of her hand.
Yet a clever second gathering called him from afar,
And love pierced the shadow to find where they were.
This is the story you often heard;
You may know the ending sweetly catered.
Let me tell you the story of mine,
A bitter tale that grief to define.
Damayanti was far too tired to trace
The fading prints of Nala's face.
There was no second swayamvara to rise,
No Damayanti to pierce his disguise.
No chariot returned, no forgiveness was spoken,
Some threads are not tied once the fabric is broken.
The gods didn’t weep, and the world didn’t pause;
We simply became who we never once was.
You have to make that decision
If you go right your future will be bright
And you will reach new heights
In your life you will be a great leader
And with all this racism you will be a great healer
You will never be a cheater
You will always be that great dreamer
And in your self you will be a believer
Eventually you will be a great achiever
If you decide to go left
You will always be tested
Your life everyday will be some how affected
You may be the one that is always suspected
For some reason you may not be felt connected
And you will always will feel neglected
You realize you took the wrong direction
And now you change your mind and pick the right selection
It may take along time
To make that climb
And to stop all the bad crimes
Your heart says you can do it
If you just try to commit
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