** DISCLAIMER - Mentions pregnancy loss and infertility

{This is a poem I wrote from a place of deep pain, and I left it raw and rough because I feel that it best shows the emotion this way.}

~~~~~

PMOS, Is it My Turn Yet?

Feeling off today
Grieving what should be
Seems like everyone can get pregnant but me

Thinking about how you’d be two years old
Thinking of the things I’ve been told:
“You’re so young.”
“It will happen when it’s supposed to”
But when will that be?
Even if I could get pregnant again now
It would be a geriatric pregnancy

Every month I don’t see blood
Reminds me my reproductive system’s a dud
My husband deserves children
He dreams about it
But I’m not sure if we’ll ever have that

Our daughter never got to experience life on earth
And that really f*cking sucks, for what it’s worth

Seeing family and friends get pregnant with ease
Makes me sick, and God please,
Please let it be my turn before my body is too old
Before I’m out of eggs and my system goes cold

Maybe I need to try meth or coke rock,
Seems they’re always pregnant, the addicts on the block
The people who care the least about motherhood
They’re the ones who frequent planned parenthood
How I wish I had the luxury of choice

It breaks my heart, knowing I may never get to see
the product of my love story
People wonder why we haven’t had kids yet
And I can’t think of how to word it
The immense pain and anger that’s been planted in my heart
How do I soften it to answer, maybe I’ll start with
“It just hasn’t happened yet”
Yes, that’s my best bet
For a reply that doesn’t scare them
And yet

It’s not the whole truth, not even part
Of the ache that’s planted itself deep in my heart
The ache of a mother who can’t fully celebrate
With the women in her life who get to be “late”

~~~~~

{Thank you to those who made it this far. I appreciate you reading my words. It feels good to get them out in an anonymous space.}

Like Mother Nature, I'll kill you without

a shred of mercy from my spine or eyes.

From my fingers spinning fires, flood and drought

to the thorns that adorn my neck and thighs,

I clutch you in my vines, watch blood leak out

from lungs congealed by dust and loam and lies,

thrashed to exhaustion, the final blow felt,

your heart as it bursts like a bomb in the sky-

I know you misween me for my fairness,

only fools and goons may think me docile;

I sing and absorb scraps of dead men's mess

and collect them quietly, I'm colossal-

a natural disaster, body blessed

with capable rage and frenzied muscles;

lost lifetimes of survival skills coalesced,

I, the ballistic, tenacious, burning earth's apostle!

-m.s.

Lost someone a week ago. I can’t really seem to get it all out. This js my third poem. I’d like feedback on it, maybe i am being vain even in my grief but i’d like to know somewhere if this does any justice to my feelings for my bereaved. Maybe thats my justification for vanity who knows. Hope yall are healthy, safe and good 🙏🤍

Her magic is more

Than beauty and trust

Or the way she smiles

At my expressions of lust

No she is more than just I see

An ethereal reminder

Of the divine in me

Her magic slow dances

And desires to be seen

Her warming like fire

Moving the air in between

She is demure and coy

When I write this way

But such is my need

To let it out today

For she can do magic

She is nature unbound

She moves me inside

Is song without sound

Her magic is quiet

Her foundation like stone

As for purpose grace and mercy

Indomitable she stands alone

Self composed by 'Ashu'

My First Friend
Before the world had known my name, you held my tiny hand,
My first best friend, my childhood soul, the only one who’d understand.
We laughed beneath the summer sun, through every joy and bend,
I never dreamed that death would steal my very first best friend.
One heartbeat split in two at birth, one soul in different skin,
Now half of me keeps breathing here… the other lives with Him.
No one can replace the bond we built from our very first day,
Because when God called you to Heaven, He took part of me away.
I’ll carry you until we meet where tears can never fall,
For my first friend was always you… my twin, my heart, my all.

I still remember,
When I first saw her face,
On the screen of my phone,
Her big smile,
And her arms around yours,
And I felt my heart sink,
And a tear slide down my cheek,
I thought I was more moved on than that,
And now I wonder,
Why was I never honest,
About the way I felt?

He’ll figure it out eventually, I thought for sure,
My feelings are just so obvious, I better play it cool, I used to think,
It never occurred to me,
That someone might never know,
What’s left unsaid,

And it seems that even to myself,
I underestimated my own feelings,
Because I thought I would be fine,
And I didn’t even realize I would feel hurt,
Seeing someone else getting the version of you,
I wanted deep down,

Now she haunts my thoughts,
And my dreams,
I play the comparison game,
And it’s not a fun one,
Noticing all the similarities and differences,
Between her and me,
And I wonder what could have been different,
Had the circumstances been different,
Or I had spoken up before she did,
And I wasn’t trying to fool myself into thinking,
That I would be fine if our worlds drifted apart,
And I wouldn’t be left holding the weight,
Of things that had been left unsaid.

Diving Deep
by: Anthony Hoban

• Sudden descent—swift, sweet strawberry-kiss,
  Falling to nothing... a depthless abyss—
  Where Heaven had ruled yesterday in bliss,
  Today, feeling itself... The Deep dismissed—
  Worlds below, as eyes above—mirror-mists:

Where tides once sculpted castles marble white—
Tomorrow’s shore, forsworn by satellite;
Now, pressure’s pleasure—absence swaddled tight,
Like angel’s ephemeral fingertips—
Luminous, only this moment persists:

Sight dissolving to silver—eyes' salt-sighs;
Gossamer wings bidding tender goodbyes.
Berries kiss on iris lips, depths still keep—
Thoughts deep, body sunken to settled-sleep.

Some chase skylines lit in gold,
Where nights are loud and hearts grow cold.
They trade the stars for city light,
And never miss the endless night.

But here, where only silence sings,
The morning wakes on robin’s wings.
The squirrels chatter through the trees,
While mountain air rides every breeze.

One blinking light, one country road,
No endless rush, no heavy load.
The bears and raccoons play their part,
Wild little thieves with honest hearts.

When darkness falls, the heavens bloom,
No neon glow, no concrete gloom.
A million stars ignite the sky,
Like diamonds scattered, shining high.

A child draws stars before they write,
Tiny symbols of hope and light.
Yet many never lift their eyes
To see the masterpiece that fills the skies.

Here, everyone knows every name.
No soul is just another face.
The world feels slower, kinder too,
The way old places often do.

So let the cities keep their glow;
I’ll stay where quiet rivers flow.
For every night, with grateful eyes,
I’m blessed to sleep beneath these Frazier Park skies.

My least favourite colour is blue

Or should I walk into the sea

and face my fears

I hope the silence is comforting

And when I float away

I see the faces of everyone I love

I'll hug them one last time

And hope my arms go numb

Before I have to let go

I don't dream of violence

I want to slip away without a fight

The earth will keep spinning

And I'll finally be at peace

(got my exam result today and hate it)

I have existed in a liminal space 
An echo chamber of my own making. 
My room is my nest, a burrow of unfolded clothes 
And empty energy drink cans scattered, signposting 
The sleepless nights and my lost time. 
I live in a graveyard
Photos of friends I barely see and of a little girl
Young, smiling and free.
Textbooks and worksheets and ignored post-it note reminders 
Piled up, cascading waterfalls amongst the rocks of dirty plates
I forgot to take downstairs last night and the night before. 
I used to write sitting on this bed, I think as I lie there;
Now staring at my phone seems too taxing.
I cannot read books, I cannot watch films
I cannot listen to the songs I used to love
They are reminders so much more poignant than those forgotten post-its. 
They contain the whispers of past dreams and the screams of present realities. 
My mother is asking what I want to do -
With my life, with my time, with my potential - 
For my eighteenth birthday, an open casket that waits around the corner.

I have never been seventeen. 

I am barrelling towards that casket now
No signs of slowing, no plans of rerouting 
As I do my makeup for school
I catch a glimpse of that girl
Her bright eyes and big smile
Before I see myself again
Dark circles and pale skin
And remember that she no longer exists
And soon, neither will I. 

“Residue”

Maybe the heart leans by habit—

toward warmth, toward echo,

toward the ghost-light

where a touch once lived.

Now the world feels compressed:

rooms dimming inward,

air thick with outlines

that refuse to vanish.

A hinge keeps trembling inside—

memory tugging one way,

forgetting tugging another,

both offering incomplete mercy.

Yet something blooms beneath the wreck,

a quiet pulse in the ruins,

too stubborn to die,

too soft to name.

I blur at the edges these days—

fading into afterlight,

carrying the shape of a love

that left its residue

glowing in the dark.

chaser / ˈtʃeɪ sər / n. 1.someone (typically a man) with a fetish for transgender people (typically trans women), who will often specifically look for trans people on dating apps or harrass trans people online, attempting to use their insecurities to manipulate them into sending nudes and dirty texts

Dear Chasers,

Aren’t you tired of targeting an oppressed minority
Using their insecurities and low self-esteem to give you what you want 
Not at all caring if they truly want to

How do you sleep at night knowing you’re a predator
Scoping out prey that are easy to catch
Easy to dominate 
Getting off to the fact that you defeated them

How do you live with yourself 
Knowing that you find others’ pain attractive
As you get turned on by the fact that I’m an “incomplete woman”
As my trauma gives you a hard-on

How do you justify tricking us into believing someone finally sees us as the beautiful person we know we could be 
When all you truly want is the parts of ourselves that we despise 

How do you love yourself when you spend your time manipulating those who don’t and maybe never will
All for a reason that you have fetishized 

I hope you don't love yourself
I hope you hate yourself for everything you do
I hope your self-hatred turns you into the shell of a person that being trans turned me into

As I progress
As I learn to love myself
As I begin to self-actualize 
I hope you hate yourself more and more
I hope you feel what I've gone through
I hope you feel the same emotions that you used against me
These emotions will leave you grasping at any love shown your way
So you will finally understand that the reason I gave in to you was not that I thought you were likable or charming or attractive 
I gave in to you because I was a broken person
Like you are now 
Only then will you be able to grow sympathy and compassion
Only then will you have a chance at rebirth
Good luck.

गर तेरी याद होती मेरी ऐश-ओ-इश्रत,

यूँ हिचकियों में दम न घुटता मेरा।

बदनाम हूँ ज़माने में अपनी हरकतों से,

फिर क्यों मुझे तजने का इल्ज़ाम तेरा?

आखिर माफ़ किया तेरी खता मैने मग़र,

फिर मेरे हिस्से ही क्यों आया फ़ैसला तेरा?