Possessed Wine

pour thirst

into a glass of longing

gulping unsatisfactorily

ingredients of thousand pleasure

o dearest lover…

 

intoxicate me a century yearning

at hollow pharynx of addictiveness

breaking entire furor

so full of turbulence!

–Noor Aisya Buang
Aisya has been writing poems since 2011. Her poems and short stories have been published in Singapore, Malaysia and Indonesia newspapers. Her first poetry book Kastil Aisya (Aisya’s Castle)  has won book prize in Malay Literary Award, Singapore 2015 and shortlisted for Singapore Literature Prize 2016. Her second Malay poetry book Cahaya Dalam Sunyi (Light in Loneliness) has been published recently. She is now in preparation to translate her poems in English and publishing her first Malay short stories. She can be reached through email kastialaisya@gmail.com

Without You

I never really understood the how phrase “I can’t live without you.” when it comes to your lover. I’ve actually always thought it was rather silly, being that we’ve gone our whole lives without knowing said lovers beforehand. Now this term possesses new meaning. Ever since that tender moment when you unceremoniously drifted into my life, you’ve taken control and have enlightened me on just how uninformed I was on this matter. You’ve somehow dug your way under my skin, through the barriers, over the walls, uncompromisingly defeating all of the guards and headed straight into the depths of my soul. You’ve opened up chambers in my heart that I never knew existed. I’ve sacrificed my physical person allowing our essences to fuse. I’ve fashioned a life for myself that completely revolves around you and yours. Now if, and may the gods forbid it, you were to ever leave me, you’ll take that piece of me that is essentially attached to you. Without it, I’d fundamentally die like an orchid in the dark. Blood will continue to flow through my veins, but I will be dead from the inside which is far worse than the out. All that once aroused, will begin to depress. The brilliant colors of life would drip to the drains and spiral away; things would no longer be vivacious and pleasant. I would not, no I COULD NOT continue life as I once did merrily without you by my side. This is how I’ve come to not only understand the phrase, but have come to the conclusion for myself, that I really and truly cannot “live” without you.

 

What is love to me? A gentle death of logic, a worthy mental torment, a delicious poison that will bring your sentiments of solitude to its final resting place.

 

What is love to me? All of the insane beauty I see when I look into your eyes.

 

–Joshua JaiBz

Joshua is a poet/performer, writer, podcast co-host, and an empanada addict. This is a piece from his poetry book Get Lost in the Deep Blue Me. Words are his toys and life is his playground. Links to his books and podcast can be found on his Instagram.

Letting Go

Breath.
Betwixt mine eyes I see her.
An effervescent cloud of mournful blues & grays.

Breath.
Between my lips I taste her.
Cold, crisp, cuckolded kisses filled with decisive disdain.

Breath.
Behold my hands I touch her.
Malleable rotted dirt-blackened smudges,

With which to paint upon her stone.

Breath.
Be still my mind I hear her.
Cooing softly into the bosom of my temple.

Breath.
Bemoan my heart I know her.

Breath.
Be staid my body I need her.

Breath.

Benign, malevolent waves of white winter pass.

Crushed cudgels of spring’s wet buds
Cry out in dew-dropped agony.
And Summer…

Breath.


And Summer.

How you, Dear Autumn, have declared her dead.

Eclipsed by the shadow of your callous sky,
She withers upon my gaze.

Left with only you, Dear Autumn,
I am resigned to go to the ends of the earth
And wander along my mind-path’s dreary plain.

Breath.
Be kind, Dear Autumn.
For I have gone to the place beyond the sun dried willow’s leaf,

I have wished that your sky’s dank shadows
Descend onto my eyes’ watery orifices once more.


Please…do not leave me out to dry.

–Laura Bernas

Laura is a freelance writer hailing from Buffalo, NY. Having lived in places such as Russia, Africa, and Alaska, she loves truly original short fiction, poetry, and pretty much anything to do with fantasy and adventure in foreign lands. Hoping to one day soon publish her first novel, Laura spends her time not writing making independent films, acting & singing in theater, and enjoying all the delicious restaurants NYC has to offer. You can contact her for any and all of your writing needs at laura.bernas13@gmail.com and on Instagram

Untitled

Ich liebe dich
I still cannot believe you love me
Wo bist du?
Come be with me.

Te quiero mucho
You’re beautiful
Te necesito
Stay by my side.

Mahal kita
My heart screams your name
Halikan mo ako
Promise me that your love is true.

Ya lyublu tibya
I yearn for you
Padari mne svayu lyubov
You’re near and yet so far.

Je t’aime de tout mon coeur
Say you’ll never go
Tu es ma joie de vivre
You are my muse.

I love you
Take my heart and keep it.
I need you
I am yours.

–Sarah Montenegro

Sarah is an NYC professional by day, a writer by night. She writes horror and tragic stories, and sometimes, about past lives. Recently, she tried dabbling into poetry. You can email her at sjcm1721@gmail.com  and you can check out her short stories at sorenlysander.wordpress.com.

Lost in Thought

People always say, “Life is like a box of chocolates”:
Full of surprises-some we crave, others, well…like nugget.

Reminiscing with the stars, my thoughts grow sweet.

What have you become?
My little lantern light
Of days before I could speak.

Orion has gone, and the Dippers begin to fade.

Smoke rushes in clouding my vision,
Reality abrupts my sights too soon.
I fear the pressing dark and long awaited night…

Season me with bright white reason.

Pull it out of my burnt black sheets.

It feels lonely in the distant dark

As I wander in perpetual estrangement.

…Can you hear me?
Come down and carry me towards luminosity, please!

It is time, my lover, to come and meet me at the gate…

I wake, a light still on…I hear her refrain.
I cannot comprehend what has come to pass.
I feel a wishing, a great wanting for things to change.

A limit to my light was reached today.
Deep down inside, I knew it could not be.

All that nightlong lovemaking could never

Really stop what was going on inside of me.

Burn brightest, my magnificent star.
Be eager in finding your watch light’s beam.
Never fear, you know the length the light of your wick can travel.

Watch it stride out valiantly to meet your guardian’s steed.

I smoke out the midnight candles with tear-stained, wanting lips.

Our last meal’s remnants lie scattered on the floor.


What made you want to leave so badly?
The image of your eyes bulge before me

Saying, I could not but help it, for what of freedom...?

…I could not give you what you wanted
And so this fantastic dream of love-you and I

Will never share.

I wake, seething fast; the moon is gone,
And red clouds have come to kiss the night to sleep.

Come back to me my darling…
My light’s gone out, and now, I cannot see.

–Laura Bernas

Laura is a freelance writer hailing from Buffalo, NY. Having lived in places such as Russia, Africa, and Alaska, she loves truly original short fiction, poetry, and pretty much anything to do with fantasy and adventure in foreign lands. Hoping to one day soon publish her first novel, Laura spends her time not writing making independent films, acting & singing in theater, and enjoying all the delicious restaurants NYC has to offer. You can contact her for any and all of your writing needs at laura.bernas13@gmail.com and on Instagram

Compassionate You

By Marissa Gonzalez

I thrive on beautiful things like laughter and love and kindness and compassion and tenderness and concern and care.

Everyone gives some of these things sometimes.  I tried to show everyone these things all the time and made a lot of friends who gave me some of these things sometimes. Eventually, however, I started getting envy and jealousy and hatred and games and lies and public humiliation and everything negative you can think of when it comes to relationships.

When this happened I completely shut down.  I was destroyed and on the verge of death.  Then you barged into my life and started to put me back together.  You knew exactly what to do.  You gave me laughter and love and kindness and compassion and tenderness and concern and care.

Then I was back to myself again and ready to go back into the world.

Your love guided me back.

We’re not soul mates.  We’re twin spirits.  We breath for each other.  We sustain each other. We are truly one.

 

The series of pieces in Pink and Cream were written shortly after Marissa’s divorce. She hope it serves as a sign to others that she understands the pain of divorce. Currently, she lives in Cleveland. She spends her time writing and working on her jewelry business  

El Retiro

By Marissa Gonzalez

The turning point was that day we walked from the Plaza del Sol to el Retiro. You were moving full speed ahead and I was lagging.  I wasn’t sure about my sweetie.  You were stellar, but something held me back.

As we walked from your hostel to the bustling sidewalks of Madrid, you took my hand- the gesture that reminded me who you were and all you had done for me.  You were the guy who swooped in when my world was falling apart.  You were the man who said, “I love you expressing it with flowers, phone calls, dates, updates, and “honey you look beautiful”. You were the one who flew thousands of miles to be by my side.  There was comfort, friendship, love, hope and an easy relaxation in us holding hands.

You were telling me how awe struck you were by the city.  “See, I told you.  Aren’t you glad you came?”  “Yes” Like me, you liked the Isamo Naguci exhibit at the Reina Sofia. You said the TV in the hay stack offered a view of a long forgotten time versus the age of electronics.

We passed by sidewalk cafes agreeing that we weren’t hungry yet.  The conversation went to el Rinconcito.  “What a cute little bar.”  We had gone there the night before and shared a plate of olives and bread washed by a couple of beers. The bar, tucked away in a secret corner of Madrid was ours.

I was relaxed being away from Cleveland and that work world.  I felt even more at ease knowing that someone on my side was there with me.  There was no talk of that, though.  We strolled the streets commenting on the things we saw along the way.  “People drive with no fear here.” I didn’t realize it, but as we walked my wall began to crumble. “I love you sweetie.” “I love you too, Dave.” There went a brick.  “Thanks for coming to visit me in Madrid.”  “No problem.” There went another brick.

We walked until we sat on a park bench as you brought me water.  I don’t remember what we talked about on that bench, but when I stood up I felt released.  I took a few steps into the future as I went to hug you.  You were the one.

We spent the rest of the afternoon lying in El Retiro’s grass.  We were sailors.  Our blanket was our vessel and we were adrift on the still waters of a green sea. There were other sailors and vessels all around.  I hardly saw them.  I thought, “Is this really us?  Who cares?  I’m just glad I’m with him.”

The series of pieces in Pink and Cream were written shortly after Marissa’s divorce. She hope it serves as a sign to others that she understands the pain of divorce. Currently, she lives in Cleveland. She spends her time writing and working on her jewelry business