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YOU

Recovery. The tears have stopped falling, my heart is beating in defiance to the rhythm of life again. Normality. They refuse to well up at the romance of a movie, the sadness of a song, the bittersweet whisper in a deafening crowd. I sweetly remember the times now when your name would make me blush, my heart would skip     a     beat and leap

into the heavens…or rather the pits of hell. My eyes focused on no-one except you, my words were tailored to impress…you. Instead of blushing at your name, it is now not said. It is thought of, I admit- but not dressed up in beauty the way it once was. It is now associated with deceit, mistrust, and regret. I do love you. But now I hate you too. Which is why I miss crying at movies, because now I feel anger. I miss smiling at kisses. Because now I feel sick. I miss listening to Whitney and I’ve gone back to Iggy , and I know it’s silly but these things make a difference.

-A.K.A-

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Author:

Hi, my name's Aisha and I am 24 years of age. I'm passionate about writing poetry. Sometimes, I don't know how to convey my thoughts in normal conversation but I can spin off a poem about what I am feeling in 5 minutes. Or less. Writing is my thing. Like it is a lot of people's 'thing' and sometimes the only 'thing' that is a sufficient outlet to stop us all from going crazy. There's a lot of pain and anxiety in my poems, but often relief, which I find hard to convey but manage to slip it in at the end with a reference from the Quran or a hadith. If you feel you recognise this same emotional attachment to words, then feel free to read my blog and do not hesitate to contact me, comment and subscribe! Peace, Aisha -a.K.a-

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