Dead Again

I swallow moths that live on my window pane
A blanket of withered petals presses me six feet below the sheets
My bedroom is a graveyard when death crawls in the form of deep slumber
Poe stares at me from the poster
On the wall and I tell him I’m in love
He looks at me with the same old haunting in his eyes & I’m magnetized toward his silenced mind
I’m falling for dead faces again
I’m losing touch with myself as
Another death strikes tonight.

-Nameera.


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-Poem-

Reignited filaments

Light up the bulbs

The world in your eyes

Looks like my death

And when you’re on

The edge of an apocalypse

Life puts a finger on the

Sheath of politeness

The curtains burn

And I rise.

-Nameera.

For The Woman of My Life

It took me nineteen years
To actually realize how we
Are both after the same things
Two free women
Chasing uncertain winds
When one trips
The other holds her up
I live for the sparkle in her eyes
She breathes through my smiles

And when rage takes
Control of us
She begins to fear the wings
I’ve grown
Little does she know
That they don’t take off
Without peace that fuels them;
The peace I find in my
Mother’s embrace.

-Nameera.

The Universe in Me

At times

I feel like I have the sun for a head

The way different thoughts revolve

Around me just as planets do

In their secret orbits

 

I wish for the universe to heal my wounds

But instead a black hole chews upon

Intricate pieces of me and spits a

Mouthful of the brightest shining stars that

Look like scattered dead bodies across

The night sky

 

I’m an escapist

Swallowing wormholes to get anywhere

Patience gnaws at my bones

My soul hits your domain like a

Headstrong asteroid

I was only trying to kiss you

I never thought my blemishes would

Corrupt you through and through

 

I wish I had told you earlier

That in love I cause destruction

Beyond mending

 

-Nameera // from escaping love to losing it

 

 

An Alternate Universe

What if there’s another you, perhaps in some other part of the universe wishing for life instead of death?

What if all that we believe in is nothing but a foreign concept to him?

He waits each passing day, growing happier with time knowing that some day he is going to escape his death and begin living.

He is carefree when old. A smile forever sits upon his face while his eyes sparkle with all he would do when he’s alive.

As you sit around complaining about life ending too quick, he looks forward to come alive, at last.

Somewhere, in a universe far away, there’s a version of you who calls the beginning an end and the end, a beginning.

-Nameera.



Wondrous Musings

I sat in my favorite corner of
The college library
Pretending to read a book
That failed to confine my
Attention in its age old pages,
Between the mundane and
Forgotten bookshelves there
Was a couple busy making
Out the wonders their bodies
Could do
Such is the taste of youth
It makes you want to bloom
In the most uncanny places
On the other hand
I gaze at the librarian
With his horn-rimmed spectacles
And wonder what fantasies he
Hides behind the expression
That doesn’t mislead me anymore
For I am convinced that I’ve seen
Him steal glances at the
History professor who walks around
With an air of authority that
Would make anyone think before
Putting forth an inane gesture
Yet I wonder what these old souls
Would give to be reckless and stupid again
What would they give to redefine
Their past lives
And weave poetry once again
On fresh shores of fiery lanes
Because to be young & lost
Is bliss beyond thought.

-Nameera // Youth still drips from the hinges of their withering spirit.


Imagination really does take you to unexpected places 😅

Poetry is my Home

In my mother’s bittersweet lullaby

That still faintly rings in my ears;

I have found solace in strangest places

And the eternally notorious alleys

Wrap me in their dirty embrace

Nothing they told me ever made sense

I was always a sinner in search of salvation

Now, I’m a saint roaming unnamed streets

I make shelter out of suppressed bones

And dejected metaphors

 

It’s amidst these white sheets

And the jet black ink I weep

That I have reached my finality

I have come home to you, poetry

My second womb was pain

And out I emerged as a poet

-Nameera.