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  • baddiexmegh 15w

    spaghetti mafia

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    The tale of an almost

    I have you buried under the weight of all troubles in my heart. I have your name rolled under my tongue, threatening to spill. My mother's tendancy to harbor unwanted fear leaks through the gaps between my enclosed fingers. I've loved you for so long that now my love is just grief with no place to go.

    It is the warmth in my chest when your hand is in mine, wishing you'd see me the way I see you. It is the frost in some unseen corner of my heart, branching and multiplying under the blanket on all of the dimmed nights. It is the mystic bubble of ecstasy, an unbreakable addiction when you seem to care. At the same time, it morphs into a four-walled purgatory dragging the air out of my lungs when it comes to me that you do care, but just not enough to return the lost breath back to me.

    Am I allowed to become someone just because I love them? Because my favourite songs aren't mine anymore and nor are my choices. My lips chant Bukowski, as I trace the words written at the back of my hand, imagining how your lips would move against mine as they slip out snippets of literature, tainting my cheeks in red and eyes in adoration. It is maddening that my body aches for you, for the things you could possibly do and the things I know would never be true.

    Does the reverie of my touch give you nightmares? Does it make you toss and turn at dawn, your heart aching for me and the grief gathered at the crevices of your bloodshot eyes just because we aren't what we want us to be? Because you once said, what is true love if it doesn't haunt you a little. Perhaps, it doesn't, because we came to an end at the peak of a whirlwind of romance which never begun. Would something without a beginning, something which would always remain a perhaps, considered worthy? Or is it just another passing almost-promise which never came to know the bane of existence?

    My questions brim through the vessel of time. My eyes remain hungry, my hands wild and my heart stuck between a couple of almost moments. And yet, it someone asked me what I did before my heart was offered his love, I'd come up with an empty hand. I'd say, beyond existence and the lack of it, there is a valley of empty almosts and I'd meet him there.


  • baddiexmegh 29w

    Meh, idk anymore.

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    all about him

    I let my feet walk me across the asphalt lanes, halting at every stop sign, my eyes fluttering open and close resembling the insistent ticking hands of a clock just as a head of bronze blocks my vision, a wry politesse adorning his facade full of a monochrome disaster. I take him home for, he seemed like a tenant living in the body of a complete stranger.

    Years later, i get told im replaying his tape too many times. To be frank, I do think so myself too. But, I wonder how I can ever let go when he is the one holding my hand as I sway back and forth the edge of a cliff as the mellow breeze flits by. I was terrifed of heights and falling in love. See where life got me?

    I get told the light whoosh would become a storm and that I'd take him down with me. Guilt ripples through me and yet, a selfish desire fuels my strength. My heart still shivers as it shakes it's head. I sigh as I loosen my grip but somehow, he holds me tighter than ever. As much as I want to hate him for being so stubborn, I fall more in love with his selflessness.

    I never knew I could be so consumed by someone before. It's like slow-poison. One day, you see them smiling at you on the street and the next, you keep scribbling verses about how happy his mere presence makes you. Longing for someone you can't have isn't as pretty as they make it seem.

    He asks me for my advice to impress girls as I wonder how many times people told me I'd ruin him if I ever confessed. I know how true it is. Love is the centre of people's worlds most of the time and it is fierce and relentless. So, like someone said, at that moment, he was everything to me and I'd give anything to know that even for a short while, I was the one that had sparked his smiles.


  • baddiexmegh 31w

    We never learn, do we? Because even now I hope that one day, he'd love me like I love him.

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    s c r a w l

    We often find ourselves romanticizing things which are far worse than whatever half truth that messily scrawled poems or depictions can ever convey. Anxiety is more than steering clear of crowds and biting your lip when you feel at edge. It is hours of unreasonable thinking, ugly crying in your room, underneath the cover of your blanket. It is hating yourself for wanting so much reassurance that it portrays a lack of trust that you hold within you when in reality, you just feel unworthy and wary if things go too well for a while. Anxiety is getting your heart rate spiked up whenever you have to go out all by yourself and the fear of judgement pushes you down with such a force that you bow down and curl back onto your couch, feeling like a loser. It is having thoughts barking so loud within your head that makes you feel like feeling nothing is better than feeling at all.

    Loving someone can get heavy. It can painful. It can crush you every second of the day and yet, you tell yourself what's life without a little suffering. When you love him from afar and he is like a splinter lodged into your heart. One wrong move and you're pushed down the hundreds of steps you spent half of your life climbling. At one point it gets so tough to stop the tears rolling out of eyes every other night that you just want to free yourself. You try so hard to wipe out whatever memories you have of him, how you love his smile and the way he looks at you as if you're the only person in his world. Despite knowing that you're not, a hope fluttering within you kills you over and over again and you let it, all because you don't want to lose him. All because you hope that one day he will see you as more than just a crazy sweet girl who is always around. You know better than to believe in that. You've always hated math but in this case you know for sure that the probability of your success is way closer to zero than it is to one. You now claw at your heart every other day, wanting to dig him outta your chest and all you end up with is bloodied fingers and a throbbing pain all over you.

    You smile as you write all of this in a page you would probably throw away, far from anyone's reach. You crave for freedom from every curveball life has been putting you through. What you are attempting is as complex as walking around with your throat full of pebbles and trying not to choke. The thing is, no one can ever figure out how to surf when the waves are way too tumultuous and you need not. All we need is to keep ourselves afloat. You never can tame the sea but you can eventually learn to swim.


  • baddiexmegh 39w

    when it's one-sided, its your own hope that hurts the most.

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    c h i m e r a

    You saying I looked pretty today didn't make the plumpness of my cheeks or my chapped lips look good at 3 am, when my half-closed eyes, brimmed with tears and a desire to die. But your words did make me hold on to face the sun the next day. Let the choas ensue, I said as I jumped into your arms as if you were the only thing that would hold me down. I know you wouldn't trust me if i told you that you are my anchor but trust me, you are.

    The pendulum of my heart reaches back to the first jolt and the equilibrium doesn't balance me. Instead, it steals the ground from beneath my feet, making me fall apart. Know the wind that flits past you, stroking your skin as if it were your lover? Your eyes are something like that. Gentle, sharp and uncannily wild.

    How many times have I wished you knew how much i loved you when i was bundled up in your arms, your honey lips pressed against the top of my head? I know better than to confess but with your love blinding me from doing what's right, I dont trust myself around you anymore. And its terrifying. Know how it feels to have a killer lurking around for you in the shadows waiting to kill you? My heart feels something like that with you around. Drowning, thudding, a second away from dizzily letting the secrets bubble past my lips.

    The storms in my head don't cease. I want you to push everything aside and help me curb my noxious breaths. But love doesn't mean sacrifice, it shouldn't mean sacrifice. So I cradle you in my arms from afar, I see my light within your smile. Because that is the closest I'd get to feeling complete.


  • baddiexmegh 46w

    but then again kinda wish i were dead as time goes by

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    Midnight woes

    There are days which seem soft like velvet, which pass on as easily as a gust of wind on a sunny day. Where smiling doesn't seem too far-fetched and where people do not stand tall against you, adding up to your storm of anxiety. Goldfishes in the glass globe of your desk wade through the blues almost as if they were flying and a smile crosses your face, your eyes glinting with tranquility. Your frail frame seems airy as you walk through a bustling crowd of people and smile at a plump old lady who reminds you of your grandmother. Your pearly whites never duck back into the curtains of gloom and a learned stillness envelopes your skin.

    And there are days which are slow. You feel icky as you have snails crawling across your neck. Days which seem repetitive are very difficult to pull through without falling apart like jenga everytime your shaky fingers pull out a stitch of a wound too raw to be touched. Days where you want to feel nothing but feel so much burning agony in your chest that you just wanna give up. Where the thunder seems to crack your sky open and when the blade cutting your skin doesn't dull the ache in your bones. Your heart feels like it is being pierced by a thousand needles all at once and you crumble as every word people say makes you feel like a burden, an unwanted weight in this lonely world.

    Every other day you collapse into a panic room, holding down the yellow kites from sauntering away from you, towards the shining sun. You spend your time standing by the grave of buried past, greedily inhaling lungfuls of life, hoping the ground doesn't crack open. Hoping it doesn't swallow you whole.


  • baddiexmegh 58w

    feel it heavy in my bones now

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    W o e b e g o n e

    Being heartbroken resembles an oceanic unrest. The warmth of the sun above you seeps into your chest and somehow, at the back of your head, you wish it were him laying beside you, bundling you within his embrace. The tides rise and fall like the flickering emotions within and you succumb to the darkness, an untouched eulogy. Your eyes never once pull away from the star-flecked sky reminding you of Van Gogh’s Starry night but, beneath the miles and miles of your peachy skin, your hearts explodes into pieces, drowning in the depths of his Suicide Letter. Run, you whisper, run away from his trail. And yet, your tired eyes cradle his figure as his disappearance sets you aflame. Did a heartbreak always seem so destructive?

    You are often by yourself in the balcony, your back flat against the cushioned floor, your red rimmed windows fixed at the tragedy not everyone could point out as you stare at the weeping stars which seem terrified of their fall. Your eyes creep down and you sigh breathlessly, a shiver raking your body. A leap is all you want to succumb to, away from the incessant fluttering of thought. Not yet, you chant as your thawed heart aches and you are labelled a destructive hurricane. Did overthinking always seem like a caged dragonfly, fluttering against the bars as a cry for freedom from the overwhelming winter?

    You are desperate for affection and yet you cower away when his rosebud fingers reach out for your tear-stained cheeks. Glistening with the fear of goodbyes and uncertain desire, your mouth turns dry, unable to choose. The forgotten bulb dims and so do you, asking yourself to let go. The loiter of wind carries him away and the poppies in your gardens sigh, witnessing yet another begone passerby. Did being lonely always resemble the last note played on a guitar beneath the cover of your blanket at dawn?

    Your cherry lips wrap around the adventure in your dreams, you can almost taste the risk you always wanted to take. A temptation jolts your bones alive and yet, you are too scared to partake. Did being afraid always sound like your ragged breaths?


  • baddiexmegh 59w

    would you mind if I go?

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    of dark confessions

    I let the currents move the
    thawing waters back and forth my feet
    cocooned in the warmth of the earth
    as i ponder on and about the
    world bereft of my existence
    would the sky still be so kind as to
    listen to lost souls’ problems?
    or would it become selfish and
    close the blinds upon people
    drowning under the blues with
    rocks tied to their bodies
    would my journal ever crave me?
    the waft of my presence,
    the perfume that always
    diffuses in the air as i walk past
    and the strand of hair that always
    falls onto the pages when i hold
    the pen in between my fingers
    and have the ink carve a way out
    for my heart to puff up and hold on
    would the few people i let myself
    love miss the curve of my lips?
    or search for black holes that i
    succumbed myself into when i
    had no other plausible anchor?
    would the night mourn the lack
    of an insomniac always stargazing
    in the balcony with a notebook
    and a bunch of tears vaulted within her?
    would the scars scattered upon
    my skin, stretched across
    my sins be enough proof of my
    untold agony and silly despair tales?
    even if it isn’t, you couldn’t possibly
    lend me a hand and pull me out
    of the quicksand, could you?
    I need help but, I cannot scream
    i choke as i flap my arms to
    keep myself on the surface
    and yet, all that slips past my
    lips is a strangled groan
    would you ever hear my whispers?
    before the water rushes into my head,
    silencing all thought whatsoever
    into a bright white fog, scouring
    the lies, set into a trap for some
    other woebegone to stumble into
    i think they might like it there
    because then, silence is all they’d hear


  • baddiexmegh 69w

    drowning in the deep blues

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    h a l o

    the sky weeped buckets that day
    and nobody could fathom why
    mirth danced, finally out of his shackles
    but, all she that a certain redhead
    saw just as her glassy eyes
    looked up at the looming clouds,
    thundering upon the rest of the world
    was the agony hidden in the dark and
    lightning struck it’s blow every minute
    illuminating the frown lacing the midnight hued
    facade otherwise adorned in a cerulean grin
    and the dew drops that graced the daffodils,
    serving their purpose despite their impending gloom,
    resembling the tears trickling down her cheeks
    every time the curtain of the murky night fell
    talking to the florets, she said,
    sadness has a face and it resembles the
    rumbling sky wailing in travail
    perplexed features loured at her as
    she chuckled bitterly and leered up at the
    sky, sick of romanticising it’s misery
    why can’t we simply reassure it that it’s
    gonna be okay, she wondered aloud,
    just like we lie to ourselves every other night?
    perhaps, the welkin deserves sachets of smiles
    fabricated and made appeasing to its despair,
    hungry for a closure nobody would never have
    savouring the poetry assemblage she breathed,
    astigmatism has an epitome limned in blue,
    visible by all odds, much to her dismay
    the inky pages sighed, envying her for
    the ability to see the world for what it is
    rather than camouflaging beings as per
    her very own fancies and gustoes as such
    she scribbles nonsense like a mad woman,
    they all acknowledged while she offered them
    the sweetest smile she could muster and
    crowned them the star of her next poesy
    a belletrist she was and the universe could
    never do her persona enough justice
    for, she could adorn herself in masks,
    of everyone’s dream but, never her own


  • baddiexmegh 72w

    when the tragedy struck, weeping seemed to be nothing but a mere waste of time.

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    A l e w

    you were never taught how to say goodbye, you were a breathing mess. your heart belonged to fragments of everything you loved but never to you for, who could love a disaster?

    he held your hand and it felt warm, sending shivers down your spine. you called out for atlas because you had held enough of your tears and now, you wanted the candle of his happiness. he borrowed your heart and wrapped it up within, away from your reach. you knew from the very start that he was bad for you and yet, you felt the need to kiss the lips of that hurricane. you were stubborn, even then.

    your father came home drunk, slapping your mother with the back of his hand as she implored for mercy. whiskey stench and cigarette smoke stained the walls of your house, the shattered glass bottles resembling the brokenness you saw within your mum’s eyes and yet, she stayed, calling it love. you hid behind the curtain, watching him - the same person who had taught you how to dance while you stood on his feet, waltzing around the house - let his demons win and yet, you never walked in to stop him. you were terrified of standing up for yourself, even then.

    you were naive, chanting to yourself that monsters only exist under the beds unlike the acrid truth of the world that they exist within all of our heads. the caution tape around you read ‘step back, you might drown’ and yet, you were the one gasping for air, barely swallowing gulps of life to keep your heart beating. you constantly lied to yourself that you were okay, even then.

    take the plunge, you were told. the dose of relief is right in front of you. wrap your arms around him and let them rest. people can see you aching from all across the alley way. he will love the disaster flowing through your veins because he is no different. silly girl, a voice within your head whispers, you think this is what you want but, don’t you already know that you are a thunderstorm that sends people running?

    decaying desires bleed into your heart as you remain an enigma that people pry apart just to find a hollow space with the spirits of the past, a throbbing heart aching for love and an assemblage of stories and poems, never put to life because they belonged to someone else. you are terrified of the nothingness that you are, even now.


  • baddiexmegh 78w

    feel free to push past me.

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    e r l e b n i s s e

    Some nights I spend cutting paper
    into little spirals imagining my skin
    between the two chopping knives of
    the scissor which always looked at me
    as if i was a psychopath with planned
    murders crawling in and out of my head
    itching to be executed before the sun
    awoke, pushing them into the dirt again
    ‘you have seen nothing of life, kid’ they say
    ‘is there more horror to be seen worse
    than the ones that i have seen in
    these seventeen years?’
    i knew i would get nothing but a serve
    of silence, so i simply took it, putting it
    underneath my tongue while the heaps
    of unanswered queries smuggled some
    of it, hoping it to be an answer but
    left utterly disappointed like always
    my mama always said that people
    loved me for whoever i am
    ‘name one’ i called out and swallowed
    hard already expecting the silence that
    followed, it was my only companion
    that truly stayed with me these days
    some days I spend staring at the sky,
    feeling infinite, imagining that no
    troubles would peel me apart, piece by piece
    if only i were atop the clouds looking
    down upon everyone, as my heart
    opened its wings and left them free
    to flutter and slow-dance with the breeze
    some times an unshakable feeling of
    homesickness envelopes me, it is
    something that i do not like and yet
    i convince myself that i have to feel it,
    ‘i wanna go home’ i mutter perched
    on top of the railing of my own balcony
    strolling through the asphalt coated streets
    looking for some love to steal for myself,
    i realise that not to be loved by yourself is
    worse than not to be loved by someone