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by Yuu Ikeda the faint and white sun is reflected in a frozen puddle. can the weak light thaw the frozen puddle? i feel that i'm looking at your eyes that suppress every emotion. the sole faint light of hope in it. the cold shroud that hides even the light is beautiful overwhelmingly. cruel eyes. lonely eyes. blue and vulnerable eyes. Yuu Ikeda (she/they) is a Japan based poet and writer. She loves mystery novels, western art, sugary coffee, and japanese comic “呪術廻戦 (Jujutsu Kaisen)”. She writes poetry on her website. https://poetryandcoffeedays.wordpress.com/ Her first essay “DROPOUT” was published in MORIA Literary Magazine. And her latest poetry chapbook “Mentally, Midnight” was published by Naked Cat Publishing. One of her big dreams is to write while traveling around the world.

by Mahnissa Maneerut I met a girl, a masterpiece true, Whose heart holds a secret, an enchantment in view. Through hell, she has traveled, her spirit unharmed, Beware of her love, for it's both gentle and armed. She taught me of love, both for self and for others, A kind-hearted soul, she embraced all her brothers. Her heart, like a tapestry woven with care, Holds strength and compassion, a treasure rare. Within beats her empathy, understanding all plight, Each joy, every sorrow, it harmonizes just right. Untainted by bitterness, through trials, it remains, Embracing flaws, vulnerabilities, and life's pains. A sanctuary it offers, a haven so pure, Unconditional affection, an endless allure. Nurturing herself, inspiring all around, Kindness and compassion, it effortlessly ground. In its presence, one's drawn to its bright light, Offering hope, healing, and power to invite. An exemplar of beauty, despite hardship and strife, Her heart showcases the essence of human life. To be touched by her heart is to forever transform, By its radiance, its power, its internal storm. A reminder to all, of love's boundless grace, Precious and deserving, a treasure to embrace. She, the girl with the beautiful heart, Radiates beauty, a work of fine art. She, the living masterpiece, the pearl underneath the sea... Giving me hope to believe more ... MAOIs (Mahnissa), an artist at heart, has worked as a writer for over 15 years. Throughout her career, she has poured her emotions onto paper, firmly believing that words have the power to heal her. When asked why she became a writer, she readily explains, "I write because no one listens." Her talent has not gone unnoticed, as she has been honored with more than 10 national awards. Additionally, she has embraced her love for vibrant art forms by venturing into various creative avenues such as writing comics and curating art. Now, she takes another bold step towards self-expression by delving into the world of collages, seeking to become an artist. This audacious move signifies her determination to break free from the confines of the written word and explore new artistic territories.

by Vincent J. Hall II What do you say when words just won't come out? What do you say when there is no room for apologies? Nothing, something, anything. Or is silence your best friend? Your only friend. Who am I to judge? Some days I use silence as my only defense. As my only resort, because you really don't want to hear what I have to say. Or rather I really don't want to say what you need to hear. So I keep it bottled up inside like a box you hide in the back of your closet. Secrets only you know about. Bottled on the inside, never to be released, waiting for a peek, wishing to get out. I've grown so comfortable in this silence. There is something comforting about the nothingness. Beautiful, lonely, absence. The veil I used to hide behind all my insecurities. By which I walk through life unscathed. Yet you, you see right through me. Right into the box. Vincent J. Hall II is a New Jersey-based writer who made his literary debut with The Drinks Between Us. A History graduate from William Paterson University, Vincent helps lead ArtPride New Jersey Foundation’s advocacy and governmental affairs efforts. When he is not helping his community and advocating for arts and culture, Vincent enjoys attending Phillies games with his partner Megan, going to museums, and spending time with friends.

by Hasini Peyyala For those who without a family On the ground there was a seed Trapped by the thickets Of fear and greed A hand reached down through the thick of it “Who are you? What have you done?” the seed murmured “Given you a home”, said the stranger So the seed landed gently into a field of fruits flowered Warmth ignited, and no more was the danger Water cascaded down to the roots The soil gifted nutrients daily Hands picked weeds where they stood The seed blossomed into a magnificent lady Hasini is a current senior in high school. She is an avid reader. She enjoys writing and playingh board ghames in her free time.

by Lauryn Nguyen You make me laugh; Whenever I'm feeling down. Seeing you every day, Makes my day brighter You are a shining star in my life. Im glad, to have met you, Thanks for being my new best friend. You, mean the world to me Lauryn Nguyen is a student in California. She believes that poetry does not need “fancy” words.

by Alexis Pendleton I’ve seen your face a thousand times, from dreams to people in the streets. I prayed that one day we would meet, and all would be normal once again. Because my knuckles are clenched, and my lips are pursed, wanting, Oh so wanting, to find heaven in your arms. Alexis Pendleton is a young writer.

by Faaria Asma Khanam One more year young A fleeting moment, barely begun 10 more years gone 10x more ahead, waiting to be spun Sweet knock knock, 20’s at the door Even though it’s right in front of me I’m unsure of what lies beyond Tick tock, 12 AM Staring at the lady I’ve become Blowing the candles, hoping I don’t burn everything around Wishing I could be my sister’s age Giving the performance of my life on the stage Where the hell did she go? The girl with the doe eyes, innocent smile Same name but an altered soul I’m ageing, stressing over being Ms.20 But here I stand, Ms.20, writing new stories Stepping in with shaky legs and sweaty palms But it’ll be okay right If not at 20, maybe at 22 It’ll all be okay, Ms.20 Faaria Asma Khanam is a young writer.

by Shamik Banerjee My dearest Cynthia, I kept my vows On this day of our anniversary. I sweeped the breezeway, pruned the Beech's boughs And watered the long-swagging Peony. Our bed is neatly done; a coverlet In crimson-murrey is upon it spread. At eve I'll play your favourite cassette And on my bosom gently place your head. As promised, I have lacquered your long nails And helped you don a camlet red and bright, I've locked the door to mute all outer wails And shut the louver to dim out the light. Long you have said, "My husband gave me naught." Now look at you—all complaints are suppressed. Now maybe you are smiling at this thought— 'My husband's good although he's not the best.' How meekly now you're sitting on the chair, Your cheeks don't have the former fury's speck— I wonder if your comportment was fair I would not use that blade against your neck. Shamik Banerjee is a poet from India.

by MG I love being alone, I said. And I wondered what it feels to have someone waiting on you. To have someone thinking of you, talking to you, listening to you. To have someone who loves being with you. I want to be alone forever, I said. And I wondered what it feels to have someone to call yours. To have someone who treasures your existence as much as you treasured theirs. To have someone whose eyes would light up at the mere sight of you. I don't want anyone to love me, I said. And I wondered what it feels to have someone who would notice the little things you do. To have someone who respects you, holds you dear, puts your best interest in mind. To have someone who would rather die than to lose you. I don't really like romance stories, I said. And I wondered what it feels to live stories beautiful enough to be carved between the pages. To have one turned into poems and songs. To have one people adores and envies. My heart may dream. But so long as my brain exists, I knew better than to wish for the nonexistent. My heart may dream. But so long as my lungs breathe, I knew better than to expect something only reserved for the lucky. For I am not one born with luck. So be quiet. Let me drown in my own lies. Do not prove me wrong. For I'm content to live the rest of my life this way. MG is a writer, graphic designer, content creator, social media manager, and student. Her poems can be found in some literary magazines, and soon (hopefully) her novel would be out for you to see to! She is accepting graphic design commissions, for more info, check her out on Instagram: @melifluousgelatoo.writes @mgsdesiigns

by Linda M. Crate a person isn't defined by what people think of them, i won't crumble like a falling building because someone doesn't like me or see me as i truly am; i am me— with make-up, without it; with jewelry or with none: i am the same person— a woman armed with ambition, big dreams, big hopes, and a drive and intensity to push her forward even in times of heartbreak and longing; night doesn't last forever and dawn's light will spill upon me one morning— so even through the tears and the fears, i push on; because this is me: the one who never gives up, the one that persists, the one that will live forever. Linda M. Crate (she/her) is a Pennsylvanian writer whose poetry, short stories, articles, and reviews have been published in a myriad of magazines both online and in print. She has twelve published chapbooks the latest being: Searching Stained Glass Windows For An Answer (Alien Buddha Publishing, December 2022). She is also the author of the novella Mates (Alien Buddha Publishing, March 2022). Her debut book of photography Songs of the Creek (Alien Buddha Publishing, April 2023) was recently published.

by Kaleb Scope I scream at the top of my lungs for you to hear the wonders of my truth: "I will not stand idly by like my ancestors had done so in the past and let you harm those I love and care for! Your devilish and demonic ideas will never bring harm to them. I will do everything in my power to ensure that you cannot bring destruction to those I love and care for, the same way you have brought onto others." Yet, notice something, Throughout my bold claims of protecting those I love and care for, I have forgotten a single soul who matters the most above all else. Me. Can you hear me now? Can you? Can you hear how much I hate myself, but also love others around me? No, you can't, and you refuse to ever understand the complicated relationship that I have with myself. You fool. Kaleb Scope is a Canadian writer, primarily focused on fictional writing and poetry.

by Taya Boyles - a crows - surfer swan-diving off stage - good faith as a lure - a cherry - pit in your throat - a real backseat princess - rifts caverned form expectation - expiration dates on their last day Taya Boyles is a young writer.