"til Death Do Us Part"

"til death do us part"

the statement upsets me dearly

for it assumes there is no love after death

why would I stop loving you so early

my feelings won't stop right with my breath

so if there is anything after this form, not long enough nearly

my sweet oblivion, let me take you to the altar

first time possibly, hopefully the second time

and I will promise you to hold your hand and never falter

for loving you only on this earth would be a crime

- zero (me)

and I never asked to be a poet

but when I don't write

I always make a line

it's just a quick decision

whether I cut it

or snort it

and I could make myself bleed

or I could make a living

writing these sad lyrics

and shouting at strangers

doing both is working out

for how long? guess I'll try

to find out, and hopefully

make it out alive

"lyricist" - zero (me)

[it's yet another song draft rather than a poem but ayyyy writing block!!!! ]

the universe is screaming in my face

I stand under a clear sky and beg

beg it to let me feel at home

I get awoken at night to look to the sky

and see constellations I cannot read

the universe is screaming in my face

but numbers and stars aren't my language

and I was taught there's only one god

- zero (me)

(I've been slacking in posting poems because I'm working on a project that needs me to write poems in my native language, and those don't do well on Tumblr. not that anyone missed them)

there seems to be a universal understanding

of the fact that no good life was a good story

good lifes make good examples and I make

poetry and bonfire stories that can't go unheard

and I am glad for all the harm that was done

to me and only to me, for maybe it was better

to make my life worse and my poems relatable

noone reads poetry when they're alright, and

more so noone ever writes poetry when happy

maybe the stars aligned in this way for every poet

maybe god made us with a bigger purpose, than

any mortal happiness, made us for eternal things

written in ink and lived through in our own blood

- zero (me)

[ I finished writing my poetry book and I just know I will hate all of them in a year or two. I am never proud of my poetry. my mind is a burn book ]

I choose to silence myself most days

I choose the end row of the train

I choose the seat on the back by the window

I choose to sit on the noisiest wheel

I choose to suffocate

I chose however to tell you today

I chose to be an idiot in love and be loud

I hope I'll make my mother proud

"choices" - zero (me)

you improvise a home by street lights

act like the dark is welcoming enough

leave at the same hour day by day

noone really knows what you're doing

you don't really know what you're searching for

your sister calls it running away

you try to say it's anything but

who are you trying to convince

your sister calls it running away

your mother says it is alright for

you get back when it's getting late

your sister calls it running away

you don't think it's a run if noone's chasing

zero (me)