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  • _ashna_ 1w

    ��

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    Brown eyes in the daylight look like sunflowers dipped in caramel.


    ash

  • _ashna_ 1w

    You made dying look like happiness.

    ash

  • _ashna_ 1w

    You feel like melodies of a ukulele stuck
    in the rusted nooks of my heart.


    ~ash

  • _ashna_ 1w

    @miraquill @writersnetwork @squared @fromwitchpen#quiet #ceesreposts

    TW: eating disorders


    You are beautiful❤

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    THOUGHTS FRESSING UPON MY BODY

    I am entangled
    in a vortex
    as melancholy
    cries endlessly
    as my body screams
    I keep staring
    at my reflection
    my smile wasn't pretty
    and my jaw was uneven
    maybe if I hadn't eaten
    that fried food
    my face would
    have been clearer,
    my arms are huge,
    Perhaps I could
    stop eating lunch
    and dinner so I could
    look like the girl
    I saw yesterday at
    the supermarket.
    She had the prettiest
    smile and a beautiful body.
    my thighs are huge,
    Perhaps I could workout
    more or maybe I should
    avoid breakfasts,
    so I could be thinner
    and be popular
    in school.
    My arms and legs
    groans, but I cant
    stop then I couldn't be
     the girl I saw
    at school in
    the hallway
    with thin arms
    and a flat belly.
    I ate grandmas
    pudding today,
    so I could make
    her happy,
    but google said
    it contained a lot
    of calories, so
    I puked until my
    stomach felt
    like a cavity filled
    with burned butterflies.
    Yesterday the
    weighing machine
    showed I gained
    some extra,
    Oh, maybe I should
    workout thrice a day,
    Perhaps I should
    walk more too,
    So I could be like
     the girl next door.
    The measuring tape
    coils around my body
    like a blind white serpent
    with red eyes,
    Oh how beautiful
    that creature looked,
    if only it wasn't blind,
    it's suffocating me,
    I can't stop thinking
    about it, as it
    tries to feed on me,
    I feel trapped in my
    mind. I can smell
    my favourite
    pasta my dad ordered
    but I lied I wasn't
    hungry, so I could
    be beautiful,
    and maybe the
    guy in my class
    would like me,
    if I looked
    like the girl
    on those
    magazine covers,
    Perhaps I will be beautiful one day.

    ashna

  • _ashna_ 1w

    @xyz_asif Maybe one day everything will be alright:)

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    Maybe one day I would wake up and drown in chaos,
    just so I could feel the essence of living.

    ~ash

  • _ashna_ 2w

    @miraquill @writersnetwork #routine #wod

    I dont know if this is good��

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    THE EQUATION OF BEING ALIVE

    Insomniac nights
    bangs upon my head
    at 5 am as I keep
    hallucinating about you,
    as reality hits, I look
    around for the alarm
    in the voidness
    of sleep.
    And I watch
    the mirror shaping a
    reflection of a
    stranger that grieved
    to see herself
    again with black
    holes under
    her eyes struggling
    to swallow her soul
    like the monster that
    lived under my
    bed when I was five.
    As coldness hit my
    face like a broken
    friendship
    I wondered
    if I was doing the right thing.
    With numb legs
    and a half weeping
    heart I bow before
    God as warm tears
    fall upon my freckled face
    wondering where did it all go wrong?
    As the little voices
    in my mind command
    me to get up I struggle
    to bring every piece of art
    that was never sculpted.
    With a mourning soul,
    I procrastinate about
    the equation to find
    the position of a soul at infinity,
    turning pages, and solving problems,
    I keep stumbling upon
    the equation of dying
    as the world sleeps around me.
    But as I look up at the sun
    creeping behind me like
    the stab of Brutus
    I wonder was it all too unpleasant?
    And as I attempt to keep
    my procrastinating voice
    locked up in the 4th chamber
    of my heart I kept
    calculating the distance
    between you and the universe.
    As my mom's oven beeps
    echoes in my ear,
    I stand staring into
    the labyrinth as my
    body burns and
    the mirror fogs up.
    With wrinkled fingers,
    I comb my dull hair
    the way my grandmother
    taught me and I see the
    mirror shaping a reflection
    of another girl,
    the girl who mastered
    the art of failing.
    With bare soul,
    I go back to calculate
    the slope of my life
    as my athar scented scarf
    feels like hope and
    the smile on
    my dads face
    after work
    comforts my soul.
    I lay back again
    clutching my pillow
    wishing that it will be okay.


    ~we shall bloom


    ashnaa

  • _ashna_ 5w

    REEKING CANDIES

    Our childhood melts like candies and memories into a small rusted hour glass stocked in a moss-filled box kept safely in the corners of an attic of our old souls. After days they reek of nostalgia as flashes of thoughts creeps into your minds like a silhouette of melancholy. As you watch your first love in a tiny hourglass laying at the corner of the box filled with hues of sunsets and a pinch of stardust as suddenly something stabs you from inside like damaged promises. The broken hourglass lingers next to it with specks of cloud and childhood infused rain dripping like drops of water, echoing back vows of a broken friendship, as I abruptly scream with pain of a fresh-cut. A wooden hourglass stays at the corner of the box, it reminded me of the day I died first as blood gushed upon the washroom floor as they chanted my name in my ear, the hourglass filled with dried wildflowers and dead fireflies trapped in time only to be suffocated to death. I tried to close the moss-filled box and hold onto it close to my life like a bereaved mother but I held it for too long just to crush it into its final breath as everything shattered upon my arms like fireflies that sacrificed its glow. As I sit flabbergasted like a child that dropped his ice cream, with tears taunting me in the attic that reeked of nostalgia. My childhood has thawed into crumbs of memories locked somewhere between stains of a childhood grief, reminding me of the night sky, a beautiful mess!


    ash

  • _ashna_ 7w

    @miraquill @writersnetwork #imagery #wod #pod

    "Originally posted on 6th october❤

    Happy one year on miraquill to me��
    Cheers to all the amazing people I met here."


    Thank you WN��❤

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    CARAMELISED DEATH AND COTTON CANDIED POETRY

    I went to the carnival of
    death yesterday,
    that reminded me of a
    Mozart's symphony that
    got trapped in the
    empty cassettes of love.
    The f e r r i s w h e e l
    stands in the middle
    of a cemetery haunting
    dark pastels of
    happiness upon
    lifeless sky, with
    rustic flowers blooming
    in the tears of a
    nostalgic dead soul.

    The caramelised a p p l e
    rots in the hands of
    a bereaved mother
    grieving for the death
    of hiraeth as medieval
    hymns echoes
    through sadness
    of unrequited love.

    The d o d g e m lives
    voiceless and empty
    with a tint of bare
    sadness upon it
    staying for the
    cacophonies of
    an old lover.

    The historic bittersweet
    p o p c o r n stood with the
    savour of a clementine
    sunset that lurked around
    the starry night chasing
    for hope. As the poet
    with a melancholic
    heart filled the boxes
    with the bittersweet
    popcorn and a hint of
    catastrophe.

    The c a r o u s e l stands
    like the remnants of
    Ozymandias with
    fossilised cobwebs
    trying to gulp the glee
    of childhood delusions.
    The majestic horse
    half stands with a
    handful of stardust
    upon its horn reminding
    me of vestiges of a
    fairytale about the boy
    who colored the blue sky.

    I died a little when
    I saw the giant
    c o t t o n c a n d y
    maker with the
    colour of an
    ancient statue.
    As nostalgia punctures
    my soul followed by
    an excruciating pain
    of childhood.
    The tang of pink orchids
    and lapis lazuli coloured
    cloud with a pinch
    of fairy dust healed all
    the woes of our
    rotten childhood.

    | The day when the caramelised apples rotted and cotton candy melted into poetries.
    _ashna_

  • _ashna_ 9w

    @writersnetwork @miraquill

    Stay happy everyone❤

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    BOTTLED FEELINGS AND CRIPPLED BUTTERFLIES.

    Eye contacts with death
    trying to strangle the
    crippled butterflies in
    my abyss of thoughts.
    Blood dipped butterfly
    scraped my emotions
    in hope to leave flaws
    upon my feelings.
    The fly with crumbs
    of clouds trying to
    flutter between my
    love as all truth
    hides beneath
    those chambers.

    The rusted poison
    bottle concealed safely
    in my subconsciousness
    of you, struggling not
    to spill my feelings
    upon this harsh world.
    Phrases of yours that
    bought goosebumps
    upon those paralyzed
    creatures of hope.

    As dusks get murdered
    by my first hope
    and the dandelions
    gets crushed by
    expressions of love,
    The venom leaks
    upon the papers
    of my poetry.

    I lay beneath the cruel
    moon as the stars taunt
    me for the feelings that
    I had, as the crippled
    butterflies decay in
    those chambers
    with foul smell
    of hope,
    I lay here as the
    bottle shatters
    on a naked night
    where everything disappeared.


    | The night where everything disappeared
    ©_ashna_

  • _ashna_ 10w

    Darling your eyes were a palette of pastels on a tinted sky.
    ©_ashna_