I would rather weave poems with ur leftover memories than.... being abandoned in a lively place with tears in my eyes. //When I was young, I fell in love We used to hold hands, man, that was enough//
You are like the wind, nowhere in sight and yet so crucial.... that I blamed myself selfish when i was selfless just to avoid leaving you in a long lasting melancholy. //We can do anything if we put our minds to it Take your whole life then you put a line through it//
I gulped the night and chewed ur fragnance.... when I decided to give up my solace in ur warmth n smile. // you know I just wanna leave tonight We can go anywhere we want//
Your name rests between my lips like a prayer.... as you were like a rare rainbow for me who showed up to cheer up my few moments but soon left me in despair. (ik a rainbow can never be the same again) //And then, oh, suddenly we turned twenty-three Now we got pressure for taking our life more seriously//
Mornings bring endless battlefields and.... and makes me realize that i have to be strong n rely on myself for my happines so that i dont let my smile depend on a passing rainbow. //Now I, I'm thinking back to when I was young Back to the day when I was falling in love
He used to meet me on the Eastside In the city where the sun don't set//
//The lyrics are from a song named EASTSIDE which had a special place in my heart//
I caressed my wounds every night before sleep Hoping it would heal sooner or later the next eve It's a wound that cannot be seen or touched by So why does it hurt so much when I realized I m just "Someone's Someone" by the end of day.
I urged hard for it to heal but was afraid what if I can't handle being a "Someone's Special" being How poor of me, isn't it? But what can I do? I m used to this wound who accompanied
I could feel its presence under the night sky And sighed saying, "not all wounds are bad tho!" But it made me wonder. Does letting it heal, Will leave another wound behind?
When you practice gratitude it makes you look at things in a better way. Leaves will rumble when the wind is gusty, wilted ones too. And who says that a dead leaf isn't beautiful. Grey is always associated with Gloomy mood, I have great reverence for people who have decoded what grey is. I have great reverence for people who are resilient. Not everyone can tolerate and not break, but you don't have to tolerate when you have a mouth to speak, you should. Anger, sadness won't subside if you won't treat it. Silence could be an antidote but the hurt won't fade if you won't talk about it. When the grey clouds gather up in the sky they protect you from heat, sometimes the drops are forgiveness for your sins, sometimes the drops sting like nudges from Scissorhands. Many of us are not what we tell others, we picturise how we want to be perceived by others. Many of us don't talk about how we were bad to others but won't stop for a minute if someone does the same. When you get happier, you forget these things. It's so liberating to forget things, to forget how people looked, how they sounded, how they had lit up your day once and how they ended up ruining you.
As I have already said, a poet is a poet only when he is writing a poem. I will be a human again as I go back to have lunch and forget about what I had written.
“I found a way to live by gazing stars and meeting poetry an art that I could never touch but feel You were still a being; something alive”.
I have some stones to block the world, which says love is just another sector of lie in which we live and a black magic along with it.
But before doing it I feel illegal to commit my own words because never did I feel the emotion of love I just came across with a mistake unintentional.
I thought I would find myself and erase the lyrics that I sang with agony and my self isolated heart but instead found you and lost everything of me that I collected via my own verse.
I offered you my hair and my sensual skin, priceless. Time, love and the loop of forever was everything I sheltered with your hands but when did I loose my own name, worth and your loyalty, I didn’t know.
I became much of thorns for you and scratched evil eyes to save your smile but when did I become this scary that you found a nightingale of your own and I was just another curse you gave on to your enemies.
I guess I was too much of concern and less of care that made you doubt about my innocence. You know, you were my first and and I didn’t know how to love. I’ll neither beg nor die to hear your voice again, I promise.
Cause with you I have scattered my own smirk and my wholesome laughters, you see. I miss myself along with you and I’ll keep doing it with a fact that I have misplaced these two. And now believe, I didn’t change i just built myself.
Time keeps on running even if we hold them with some people who feel more like a part of our closest breathe and these breathe makes me suffocated sometimes but, I survive.
I hope we find a reason to meet again either the fall of good rain or clash of our paper plane, but not again with a collision by mistake.
With every end, there’s hope buying your tomorrow with someone of your deservance. I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.
October arrived early this morning, A superstar in gucci gold robes, Whispering sweet promises of a full stacked granary before the Sun's nightly slumber. My thoughts wander towards the empyrean, a flamboyant enchantress dressed in cobalt blue, she floats and sings the bashing Sun a serenade, I think I feel the tip of my ears burning. The birds, in jubilation, breaks into a chorus of hallelujahs, a tune that sets my heart racing. It is morning like this Peace finds me, beneath the wizened tree in sweet repose, when the Earth's a tranquil mother, waking to the sound of her children's laughter. She smells of damp soil and rosemary thyme, a concoction my nostrils in acceptance sniffs to. And so I sit in awe, tasting the bliss of solitude on my tongue's tip while the lone leaf the old tree clings to, dreams of a spring that was promised to him.