Bowtie

From heat—
I sought refuge in the cold chamber.
From the cold chamber—
I fled to the coffin.
And from the coffin?
Only empty hands
bury the solar system inside me.

Though coffins may be
the cheapest rooms in real estate ads,
no cell is more solitary than a grave.

Please remember us—
all of us—
in a single tomb.

We are buried incomplete
because our bones
are stuck in your throat.

With your umbrella,
you tried to take revenge on the sun.
But didn’t you hear?
Even “sun”
whispers “water.”

From the conspiracy
between rain and sunlight,
grant the dream of a rainbow
to the evaporated hope of water—
now sold in aquariums.

Though bottled,
a state of fish
has been dismantled.

Which fountain
can survive its neck severed?

Where on the river’s throat
do the dam’s fingerprints
vanish in purification plants?

From bruised throats,
a museum of fingerprints has emerged.

Even the observer
has closed his eyes.
These tickets—
which field of vision do they open?

Desire—
drenched
between the eyes and the sea.

From all the temptations
that chased a kite,
only a diamond
remains on the geometry test.

A butterfly
divided the world
between two wings.
For the crime of unusual colors,
it was denied
a colored photograph.

The butterfly’s bright thoughts
escaped the cocoon too soon.
In an age of color extinction,
the colors chose suicide
in black-and-white themes.

I didn’t paint—
but I stretched new canvases
for old paintings.

Photos,
forgotten by memory—
yet one of them
will settle, eventually,
in the frame of our obituary.

As painters and photographers,
we agreed on the truth of faces,
yet clashed
as deeply as our tools.

Still—
our hands
are the latest fashion
in bowties:
designed
to grip collars.

— Aref Moallemi

70

0

This strange feel...

On the flesh you carved
Or my peace you narrowed
Or the laughter you borrowed...

Is this real...

Shocking my nerves
Breaking my bones
Shattering my emotions...

Could I deal...

Waking my eyes in pain
Tears drowning my cheeks in rain
Pitching my soul to drain...

Would I heal...

Crystals of white fears
As my heavy tears,
Ran to calm your fierce.
And yet and yet and yet,
You brushed salt
Of your every fault
Right over the flesh
You carved,
Gleaming peace amidst
The red blood crying
On my would...
Could I smile...
Would I be alive...
But one for sure,
That my soul is in harm
Around your arm...

-Aiden

60

0

Relationships are like Birds 🕊️✨

If you hold tightly, they die.🍂

If you hold lightly, they will fly.🎋

But if you hold with care, 🤍
they remain with you forever ♾️

58

0

EDIT🙌

102

0

In an another universe,
I reverse roles with my mom,
She lives as me and I get to
Taste her trauma, as closely
As she did. I get to see this
World from her timid russet
Irises while she carries the
Ghost of my fears in black
Pupils. The thought makes
My frail body shudder, I can't-
I want to live in her flesh and
Bones and listen to their tales,
The ones that never made even
The slightest whispers to anyone.
But I don't want her to live the
Horrors that I did, the ones that
She was safe from, a part of me
Would never want her to know
About my toughest battles,
No matter what resentment sits
Between our quiet everyday life.
What mother would want to
See how so much hatred and
Indifference was planted in her
Once sweet and kind child?
In fine, I just hope that in that
Universe, we try to understand
One another better and the
Unspoken bitterness wanes.


#mother #daughter #Mishtiwrites

77

0

When my own energy is off i stay away from people until i get myself together, isolation heals me and some people wouldn’t understand this

81

0

"What Should I Do..?"

Should I try upon some giving lessons?
I'm not a teacher, give me any suggestions.
Should I try to advocate for justice?
I'm not a judge, cant bear with malice..
Should I preach the wrong from right?
I'm not a preacher, just can't keep my plight.

Should I keep learning despite interest?
I'm not student, but trynna adjust.
Should I raise a kid with all my care?
I'm not a mother, so I do not dare.
Should I create something with all my devotion?
I'm not a artist, just a person with some emotion.

Should I build up everything on my own?
I'm not a builder, but I wanna be known
Should I bless them with all my might?
I'm not an angel, but an observer at sight.
Should I sing the lyrics with all my heart?
I'm not a singer, its just a small start.

Should I dance off every beat?
I'm not a dancer, but I wanna repeat.
Should I try to read every page?
I'm not a reader, what if its just a cage...
Should I write down all my thoughts?
I'm not a writer, trynna detangle these knots..

Shall I stop my
nonsense cause
what I know is..
that I'm genuinely
stupid yayyyy
💌
#random

73

1

It’s strange, isn't it?
When we were younger,
The world felt so alive,
A canvas with no borders.
We laughed without a reason,
Chased dreams without a care,
Every day felt like magic,
Like we had the world to share.

But now we’re growing older,
Caught in the rush to become,
The future feels like a question,
With no answers to come.
We thought we'd have it all figured out,
That the path would be clear,
But now it’s all a blur,
Filled with doubt and fear.

We’re standing on the edge,
Between childhood and the unknown,
Trying to hold on to what's familiar,
But we’re feeling so alone.
The world expects so much from us,
Yet we’re still learning who we are,
Juggling responsibilities,
While we’re still wishing on stars.

We want to chase our dreams,
But we’re afraid to fall,
The pressure’s building up,
And we can’t hear our hearts call.
We’re supposed to have it all,
But it feels like we're losing control,
Trying to keep up with life,
While searching for our own soul.

~ The Poetry Room

❤️@heartzzss❤️

73

0

A society full of sinners judging sinners for sinning differently :)

94

0