When love leaves

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When love leaves
at the beginning of everything,
leaves you
at the beginning of endless pain;
it seems it leaves
before the end,
as the end shall never come.

When love leaves
with all you ever had
and leaves the memory
of all you have been;
it seems it leaves
before the end,
as the end shall never come.

When love leaves,
please leave too.
Go home, to your roots,
for love will leave before the end,
as it knows no end at all.
Love will leave,
and you will shrink,
but how soon you will grow
before you know;
as love leaves before the end,
and it knows no end at all.

When love leaves
you broken
and withered
and crooked
and small,
then leave, too.
Remember that you are the first love of all.

Remember
to go home
to yourself.

Jehona Thaqi© you are your greatest strength

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To my husband

I write
whenever I am miserable
and my heart cries in silence
for the empty seats of love within me,
when my mind is heavy
with unsaid words 
and negativity towards itself
– then my hand starts writing 
the most beautiful and tragical poems
I could ever think of.

But today I am writing 
out of happiness and love,
with no empty seats left
– a crowd that has come to witness 
the most magical moment of all.

Today I am breathing
– in and out,
slowly inhaling the sweet scent of your skin;
and exhaling in utter calmness
all problems that we have learned to forget with the passing of time.

Today I am content
with everything there is
and with everything there has ever been.

Jehona Thaqi© thank you, husband


Roses

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Today I passed by a flowershop
as colorfull as my ancient soul,
but my eyes were fixed
on a bucket of white roses.
White roses upon the dust
of a graveyard never visited,
flakes of snow covering their petals
pressing them against the dead bodies.
Dead bodies, dead spirits,
eyes that will never again see,
hands that will not touch nor feel,
mouths that won’t speak, that won’t whisper.
What if I bought those roses
and laid them on my ribs,
will they give life to the dead heart
I am carrying around?
Or will they die, like roses upon graves?

Jehona Thaqi ©

Broken

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My hands keep shaking
whenever they hold yours.
You say this wouldn’t be easy
if I refuse to stay calm.

I stare at the ground
whenever I tell you why trying has been all I ever did.
You say you would trust me
but you can’t trust my heart.

The scars upon my wrists
are hidden underneath layers of
selfpity and shame.
You say you have never seen
wrists as small and fragile as these.
You say they are unable to hold something as heavy as love.
Love can not be broken, you say.

I say
do not define me by my brokenness.
Even if my heart lies in pieces
I will still love you wholly.

Jehona Thaqi©, I am more than my scars