The rose petals in my journal, have dried into shades of brown, And your photograph in my drawer haven't tasted air for years now... An unheard silence cascade me, the effervescent sound of your voice Is a memory that haunts me, asking me ways to live but how?
The room that used to be vibrating with perky energy of your voice and smile has become dark. Without the warmth of your touch, life is more a hawk than a lark. Days have turned to years then to decade, Time hasn't been able to heal but be a blade.
The sound of your words spoken which once made me complete Has now withered away, making me realise I am not in heaven, Was loving you a crime, Hence this feeling so forfeit?
Come back to me my Angel, rise out of that magical photograph, Breaking the prison of the closed drawer, Hold me tight just once more. Kiss me and wipe my tears, Embrace me with the arms to love me to the core……
My Angel, I tried to preserve each moment of 'WE', Like how god's beauty is wrapped by the petals of the rose, Least did I know it would dry up someday into browns, Only to ink these verses; strokes of emotions through a poesy or a prose.
That you are a no more near, loneliness is what I fear, Save me from this lonely world, Wake me up from this ambiguous dream, Take me with you to a moment where life is impearled, and you are the SUPREME.
unblossomedyet@rimi_ojha Thanks a lot for liking it ... At times I get topics which a very dear to me so I pen down to my heart's content. I mist say all your creatives are always superbly crafted... God bless you, may you excel in life and give your fans more reason to celebrate your talent.
unblossomedyet@theinkdomain. It's so nice to see that you have liked my work and have reposted it... The very first day I decided to be a mirakeean I came across your post... You are so talented as a writer who can pour out your heart and soul to make it Alive and Talking... Keep up your good work... I am honoured and motivated too.. do keep liking this small world of my thinking mind.... More power to you for giving us back new diamond inkings in the days to come. Thanks!!!
We have read your creations, they all are very unique & amazing. We would like to invite you to contribute in our new anthology project. The book will be published Internationally with your name on the front cover and copies of it will be given to you.
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Have you ever wondered what this world would be like, without you? Lifeless and dead like you??Or the same as it was before, cold and cruel.With only hatred for people like me.Maybe i am wrong or maybe Not.Maybe i judged it all wrong with my myopic eyes and cluttered mind Or maybe i just could not look enough. Not Looked enough to see whether it was all a perception of my own dismantled thoughts,and my handicapped mentality that unwillingly forced me to frame an all wrong notion about the world i am living in, among the people i m struggling with, towards a future i m not ready to be a part of.What if everything that i have been doing is just a part of something thats never gonna happen.Something that was never in the bigger picture that the world hung upon the walls of my broken heart, only to stain it with my own blood.Maybe it wasnt merely a coincidence that all those wounds werent meant to be transformed into beautiful scars but painful memories to be remembered long after I m gone.Or maybe they were supposed to trigger the ache this world inflicted upon me , time and again which my dead and soul less body could no longer feel anymore.But sadly i was numb and oblivious to everything around, owing to my already non existent life.The world would always be the same, no matter you exist or not. Its gonna be there like it was , unperturbed by my death or yours or anyones'. It hardly makes any difference to the world whether u r alive or dead or in a totally third dimension.But for your own satisfaction, u can believe what you want. Whether the world would stop existing for a while or time would cease to mourn over your death. Its all upto you.You can believe in anything and everything that pleases you.Be it the sweetest lies or the ugliest truth. You are already dead so that just means nothing.You are investing in the wrong place, for the wrong people, all for the wrong reasons. Those eyes hiding behind the prettiest faces and honey coated words are myths you could never unravel.Though death might be the eternal truth,your family would be the only one devastated by your loss nevertheless sooner or later they too would learn to live without you.The birds would still chirp every morning and the dawn would still bring beautiful sunshine to your bedroom window, even in your absence. Your words may echoe in the house where you grew up but there wont be anyone to be yelled at now.And Teatime would be the only time , you would be missed But everyone would get used to this new life.Isn't it??
"〰Pang blissfully holds you like a wild forest holding blended sheet of sky touching euphoria like an opaque catharsis splashing ancient strokes on the cherubic woes of nostalgia upon the comet canvas of Van Gogh⭐⭐
Yes it hangs, It is it's own hangman It is it's own noose And it is a cloth hanger in my rusty cupboard.
I come back drained of all life for all Eight days of the week, And pass on my sin infested wearables to this old lonely hanger Who then takes responsibility for my catharsis. Why shouldn't it? After all, it is just a cloth hanger in my rusty cupboard.
The Earth moves around the sun, As my emotions run plenty Yet sometimes there are none. If all my cupboard had to do was whisper to console me, It would do it with dread & horror for there is a bigger entity that possesses it's spirit And that's the cloth hanger in the rusty cupboard.
Desires run afoul of despair, Happiness gives way to uncertainty And the tunnel shines with light. All the while, while my cloth hanger hides in it's bubble It gets heavier as it carries two secrets & two burdens: It's own & then mine. More is less & less is plenty. The rules of the world change and change me with them But I still come back to the only constant un-being in my life: The cloth hanger in my rusty cupboard.
Yes it hangs (for it has to) It is it's own hangman (that operates on my command) It is it's own noose (that tightens the demons around my neck) And it is a cloth hanger in my rusty cupboard. Albeit, a beautiful one.
Oh, how I fell in love with the lunacy sleeping in you your chaotic demeanor left me enchanted no sooner did i realize I was drawn towards you like a moth towards light a mother towards her unborn child a lover towards the love of his life I was lost lost in translation of whats happening and whats not of what could never be and what was always meant to be my body in confusion of all the undesirable chemicals as they started flowing through the blood inside my veins gushed unimpeded leaving me in a state of sepsis that nobody could help me out with that no amount of epi or oxygen could cure me anymore my brain tried to help but my body was out of reach oblivious to the trauma you put me into the shock my fragile heart couldnt bear my breath though in vain trying to hold onto my life my blood devoid of any feelings no matter how hard it tried only poison it could carry to my brain to my limbs to my viscera to my mouth and eyes as I lay frozen and cyanosed not becuase of the impure blood but my toxicated emotions my putrid thoughts, gangrenous devouring every inch of this tastelsss flesh consolidating in me slowly as my hands lay still rotten and stinky waiting to be amputated with an artificial not so functional though a manageable robot, a machine to replace some of the damaged parts you marred with your negligence this fatigued heart too inefficient to pump that shitty⁰ fluid anymore succumbing to the torture inflicted upon by picograms of undeserved love and care adorned by your denial almost taking away the miniscule of sanity left behind in that corner of my nasty little greymatter as it too gave up on my body undesirous to try any harder brainwashing itself to accept the truth of my dying body of my tormented soul lest i shouldn't end up lifeless like a corpse doomed until eternity under this barren earth soiled with fear hopeless dead with a regret of never waking up again.
|| Logorrhea || 1 | cadge - to persuade [someone] to give something for free 2 | besiege - to urgently request to [someone] 3 | sully - to make dirty 4 | infeft - to hand over one's possession to someone else 5 | verbatim - word by word 6 | catharsis - purification of emotions (fear, pity, etc.) through art --
When I was little I dreamt of dreams.. dreaming of dreams I was little with little dreams not belittled To relish cotton candies up on cloud nine to be dolled up like fancy toy dolls to be stylishly tall to be successfully successful to be all that I could have been None of what bothers me today . And yet I dream ... Of bigger ,better things Ginormous as they are . .. For my infinitesimal existence None of what might be true But they keep me going . Just in case ,they do
Denude your soul to those pale yellow pages, Reveal to it your stygian clandestines, Irksome evocations, vulnerabilities, Scribbled with the camouflaged ichor driblets, Of plight and pangs tainted by this bleak world.
Denude your soul to Those yellow pages, Chronicle the catastrophe of terror, That encompass you, Raising, penetrating, The cavernous pits of your heart, Of your brain, of your soul.
Spew the wrecks, That are spoiling And suppurating within. Let not the cataclysm win. Instead, let alleviating be your aim.
Bare your soul to those yellow pages And let catharsis betide.
raindropsoncacti@skripture Thanks... Would you believe this was before my "angle crisis" even...? This was just at my overflowing word count! The emotions from the fallout after I couldn't even articulate into words... Thus instead am waving them to move along on with my ice cream loaded spoon!
To the woman, that swept the floor off of my own feet in my father's feet, just to disarm and demolish me, from speaking up against a man that abused me..
Thanks for attacking the tender spot of my heart, for making me the bad guy for the 'world' that was my family to me, while I wasnt even planning to avenge my loss!
Thanks for trying your best to protect the person I couldn't protect myself from, thanks for seeing me the way you saw me, as a slut, an opportunist, it really worked out for me.. making me see I don't need to look good to people to actually be good.. Thanks for disrobing me in front of my family to show what you believed was true..
Thanks for using your power and money to control my emotions, you could only control me so much.. Thanks for choosing the side that was winning when I had no interest in fighting anymore.. you had to show me novel depths of defeat when I'd already given up to go for peace.. I know you did it out of your own need to be validated and supported in a world of men, you did what felt right by your sense of what I deserved for being a girl that evokes fear without fighting...
Thanks for defending your dear ones that were afraid of me just cause I was wounded.. Self-preservation & self-defense isn't something I can disagree with. You made me realise I dont need to do a damn thing to be seen as powerful even in my vulnerability.. I dont need to lift even a finger to instill fear in those that wrong me, to go running back to figures like you.. There are many like you, you graduated me for!
I forgive you for shattering the only thing I had then, in the name of identity.. I forgive you for the hurt you caused me. Because of you, I saw love where I expected to see just hate for being who I was..
I see your hurt, in wanting to help other hurt ones.. and even though you traded benefits for their hurt, you still chose lessons.. Guess you picked what had to teach you, and teach me to do better! I found a better world, and I wish you the same! I won't hate all women because of women like you that perpetrate unfairness, abuse and violence..
I forgive you whole-heartedly, because of you, I now know the value of what I had when I had nothing.. Myself and my family.. And it is now truly that I have nothing to lose! Only gain..
Breathe in slowly It's okay. Let the tears come. They hold in them The words which you Yourself can't utter. Yes, let them free No more hiding. No more need To swallow them back No more need To stifle grief-stricken sobs By mocking cotton pillowcases Breathe out slowly. Make your noise. Don't silence your own voice any longer! Like it's the first time you've been heard Like it's the last time you'll ever be heard. Get it out, get it out good. Just like that. And we're going to be okay.