28 posts
  • _firefly 11w

    Nature's Embodiment

    The SUN rises above the
    cleavage of strong mountains
    across the deep valley,
    shining with hope and optimism.
    ~ It teaches us to be persistent and unbiased.

    The BIRDS chirp
    through fields, finding
    little twigs to built
    a safe home for its own.
    ~ They enlighten us about the bonds of family.

    The clear RIVER flows
    consistently, glittering
    under the full moon,
    providing abode to
    numerous aquatic creatures.
    ~ It tells us to move forward despite of obstacles.

    The BUTTERFLIES break their
    cocoons and flutter across
    the tulip gardens, caressing
    flowers and sprinkling motley joy.
    ~ They preach about patience, which is love, in its purest form.

    The oak TREES sway
    along the whooshing winds,
    covering miles of land
    into lush green patches
    of unlimited wisdom.
    ~ They educate us to never forget our roots.

    The unending OCEAN expanded
    till the feet of horizon,
    reflects colours of its lover,
    the SKY, who remains
    free from all the stains.
    ~ They prepare us how to love when our lover is far.

    The MOON carries itself
    to the highest spot of azure,
    wearing a transparent gown,
    shimmering down sparkle
    like silver flakes over its blemishes.
    ~ It awakens us about how beauty is not always perfect, it can have scars.


  • _firefly 15w

    During monsoon, the colour palette
    of my nani's kitchen used to change
    completely from creamy sweet
    to sindoor red spicy, and it was
    the best time for me to steal
    kachche aam drying in the open
    veranda, which my mother
    never let me eat usually,
    for I have a sensitive throat and
    my tears still remain uncontrolled.
    The greasy fragrance of pickles
    used to lure me into the kitchen,
    where nani stood in her perfectly
    draped lilac and golden saree,
    with her hands completely dipped in
    the masala, my little attempts
    to wipe her shining sweat drops,
    carefully without smudging her kajal,
    and she pinched my nose as if
    it meant she wanted to say that she
    loves me, but no one ever taught her,
    how or when to express affection
    not through the eyes but words.

    / my nani told me I could be a great poet for I know how to use words along with feelings /


    #grandma @miraquill thanks for EC ✨ #fireflyec
    Nani is maternal grandmother.
    Sensitive throat and tears here signify my strength to fight my weakness.

    Also this is purely from my heart hence no fancy words or exaggerations.

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  • _firefly 16w

    a blood red chandelier hangs idly
    among the lilac pastel clouds,
    as if it is a poet bereft of words
    with no metaphorical peculiarities,
    ashamed, it hides behind the
    veil of incomplete meaningless poems.

    a blood red chandelier hangs idly
    among the saffron coloured sky,
    as if it is a yearning lover waiting
    with its arms open for the one he loves,
    for the one who left it to wander alone,
    behind the curtain of insecure possibilities.

    a blood red chandelier hangs idly
    among the far lost twilight hopes,
    as if it is an artist on his last breaths
    still wishing to paint death as it's muse
    with its contused edgy feeble fingers,
    before it eclipses behind the bleak abyss.

    /sun is furious because like all the poets, lovers and artists, it feels abandoned /


  • _firefly 17w

    Of unsaid words and incomplete poetries.

    Ever wondered why that last poem in the old book you read seem incomplete? Maybe because the poet's quill ran out of ink or worse, it's nib broke leaving that disintegrated verse behind. Poets are lethargic people, exhausted from their own life, making fantasies in their head, without moving an inch from their dull black couch. Sometimes, incomplete poems make much more sense than the complete ones, because they are the ones containing true emotions and not merely words. The poet left it bereft of an ending because he may not have been able to pen down whatever he felt or maybe his tears would've smudged the words or maybe he was too ecstatic and forgot to write the ending.
    Ever felt like you want to say too much but words seem to have forgotten the way to your mind and your throat is stuck with silence? Maybe that is what true love/pain feels like. A lover is enchanted after seeing the person they love because maybe loving hurts. It hurts to the extent till all your words are drenched out of your soul and what is left behind is a big void which can only be filled by being the poet who writes incomplete poetries, just like their half love story.

    //There was a time when you were hopeful,
    the sunsets were not so depressed,
    the skies were painted with joy,
    your heart was not broken,
    it was filled with love and peace,
    and you didn't stand on the verge
    of a mental breakdown every night,
    with a wine glass in one hand
    and with your lover's photo in another.

    There was a time when you were hopeful,
    remember about that time and hold
    onto your sanity, you hid under your bed
    and inside the jar, where you keep
    fireflies and butterflies trapped,
    for you always loved them more,
    than you hated agony and sadness,
    bring out your golden sword,
    and kill the demons inside your head,
    for if you lay potent for another night,
    the warrior inside you, may die, without a war. //


    #contest_j #enso @writersnetwork #fireflyec

    Not so sure about this. But however never give up. There's always something worth it out there. Stay strong.

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  • _firefly 22w

    There is a transparent ocean inside your eyes and a frozen tear on your cheek, that won't melt away for you're made of cold and dolorous flesh in which you stand. The quivering blood running in your veins isn't red, it carries the pigment of fear. Your anxiety sits in the corner, singing you lullabies, to sleep, while you hold it gently and put your head in it's lap for you've never known the address of peace. Your existence is like a wound, that won't heal and you braid a fresh noose, every night, but you fail to leave your body breathless, every time the moonlight falls through your window, wearing the scent of memories, the happy ones, haunting you the most. Breathing anguish, you walk into your garden and witness wilted daisies and their dried brown broken petals, which used to be cheery white in the past days, but those are gone, so is your love for your favourite flowers. You lie there on the bare ground, covered with dead grass, and your eyes heaved under the weight of a hundred days of insomniac nights, in which you drowned in your own tears. Soulless, you stare at the sky, as if looking for a tinge of hope, but you choke on fireflies sent by the heavens to help you, and your muffled voice, remains unheard. The pain struck in your throat, forms a poem, but your hands are too fragile to pick the quill, which your mother gifted you on your last birthday. The poet inside you, died a month back, due to the absence of metaphors in the air you breathed. Since that day, your thoughts went numb, your poems swooshed along the air and your heart broke into a million little pieces. The soil of your garden feels suffocating, eclipsing the canvas of your eyes and they shut slowly, leaving behind your corpse, carved out of agony.


    #start @writersnetwork thank you ❤

    #fireflyec #fireflywn

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  • _firefly 26w

    I gulped the night and chewed your fragrance from the burning furnace, covered with chestnut rust, emanating the memories from past along with heat. My paradox self, contradicts every inch of my existence as I breathe in the stars, leaving the sky blacked, influenced by my demons. A million constellations fathom inside my heart and collectively they imprint your unsophisticated face, delicately held in my subconscious.

    You're like the wind, nowhere in sight, yet so crucial, for me to breathe, to live and to hope. The unlit candles in my broken drawers have lost their scent, because you're nowhere there to light them up. The quill I hide behind the white curtains, started being visible after the sunlight hit my room, I'm tempted to pick it and blacken the pages of my journal, with the embers of pain you left for me to walk upon.

    I breathe from this air, filled with my own ruins, I walk on this floor, covered in my own blood, I write on these pages, torn apart just like us. Yet, your name rests between my lips like prayer as I bow down to the brass idol in my temple, which looks just like you, for I didn't only love you, I worshipped you. And now all I'm left with is a broken heart and a broken faith.

    / I was alone again in the unquiet darkness.
    ~the great gatsby /


    #start @writersnetwork thankyou so much for repost and EC. ❤

    #fireflywn #fireflyec
    eid mubarak ✨

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  • _firefly 29w

    I pressed my love
    inside an old journal, 
    scribbled another unsent letter, 
    carved pain in blues, 
    before the summer breeze
    caressed my cheeks, 
    before the brisk effervescence
    of the cherry blossoms
    filled my nostrils, 
    before looking at the 
    empty seat beside me
    where you used to sit. 

    I pressed my love 
    deep within my poetries, 
    well entangled between
    metaphors and similes, 
    before another promise of
    'always' came to haunt me, 
    before I closed my eyes
    to see your hibiscus face, 
    before our memories could
    come floating to the surface
    of my mind and tell me 
    how you left and never looked back. 

    I pressed my love 
    beneath this broken smile, 
    before you could see 
    tears falling from my eyes, 
    before I wrote my last 
    poetic verse for you, 
    before my pen screamed 
    in pain and emptiness, 
    before you smiled at me
    for the last time, 
    before this air around me
    suffocated me to death. 


    @writersnetwork THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR EC��
    Set A : Before
    Set B : I pressed my love inside an old journal..

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  • _firefly 29w

    The bitter taste of my coffee palate expands as I breathe in the air, filled with our memories. I pick up the needle and thread from the corner of my bed, carefully, stitching together the shards of my shattered heart. A hundred and twenty seven poems and twenty proses old writer in me, meticulously stitches metaphors and oxymorons to cover the pain filled crevices and bury the last grave of you, us.

    And I sit on my favourite wooden chair, wide awake, yearning for a love, I never had. Usually I write poetries, but tonight, my poetry writes me. It writes about the kind of sunflower girl I was before drinking the undying poison of love. It writes me as the hero, who dies, after fighting and winning all the possible battles. I want to sleep, eagerly, but my shoulders are burdened by poetic thoughts, searing their way to my breathing humanly existence.

    As I rise to embrace the sudden roaring beneath the pastel clouds, I place my foot on a baby lizard. It’s dead. The weight of my existence killed it. Infected with a hundred and one fever, my heavy body, my fragile hands, my trembling breaths, start falling apart. I wish sleeping was as easy as this inadvertent killing was. I’m caught in this vicious cycle of restless sleep, dark nights, poetic thoughts and involuntary serfdom to life.


    / I am forever chained to myself, that’s what I am, and that’s what I must try to live with.
    -Franz Kafka/

    @writersnetwork thank you so much for the EC��❣️
    Will read all the tags and comments soon

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  • _firefly 30w

    Dear love,

    I stole a few stars from the sky last night and lined it under the thin skin of my shoulders, blacked and burdened by my own existence. The rose petals in my journal have dried into shades of brown and your photographs in my drawers haven’t tasted air for years now. In the gist, of all the moments we spent together, the ones where we both sat in the cradle of night and wrote poetries for each other are the closest to this crimson hole decaying in my chest.

    Love like silence is sometimes too comforting, especially when you have been subject to chaotic wars in past, I realised this last night lying with my face buried in the pillow instead of your shoulder, which emanated scents of lavender. The way your peachy cheeks used to turn red as I held your hand before you went to sleep, to prevent those horrific nightmares. You are still my peace and our love is my favourite memory, whose grave I visit everyday to offer lilac flowers beaded together with a thin thread of hope you gifted me. I will never let you fade away into the abyss.

    I grew daisies and sunflowers in your heart and watered them all winter only to lose them to the wilting snowy days. I wish they weren’t as delicate as our love was. I wish I wasn’t such a hopeless romantic poetic, drawing metaphors day in and day out, on the skin of my soul and I wish I wouldn’t have carved your name on my heart instead of love. I wish I would’ve known that all the lovers are not meant to be. I wish I wasn’t a little sparrow who learnt to fly because of love and broke her wings in the process. I wish I wasn’t made of flesh and bone but of ashes and dust, so that I would’ve flown away with the whooshing wind to find my way back to you.

    Yours ardently

    #choose @writersnetwork THANK YOU FOR THE EC��❣️ you've made my week.
    Ugh both 99th and 100th post got lucky��✨

    #lettersbyfirefly #fireflyec

    #fireflywn oml on my 100th post��

    So this is it. This is my 100th Post. And I couldn't have been here if it weren't for you guys. I can't tag each one of you but you mean a lot lot to me. ❣️

    Lines on bg are from the song 'i hate you, i love you'

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    /I don't mean no harm
    I just miss you on my arm
    Wedding bells were just alarms
    Caution tape around my heart
    You ever wonder what we could have been?/

  • _firefly 35w

    Of things, places and storytellers

    And the crescent moon swiftly took it's place in the sky as the young dusk arrived, shivering demons into her horrendous dreams. She opened the both of us. She was petrified to go into the dark walls of her mind. They call it 'sleep' which we think is an abbreviated form of 'death'. We were tired and screaming but she didn't let us rest. She made us stare at it. It was hung on that blue wall, with three hands racing noisily against each other, the kind of noise which is silence's oldest ally. She wanted 'time' to pass. It sang in it's old mechanical-melancholic voice like a lover sings Neruda's sonnets. It striked every moment as if the world would stop spinning if it didn't but she doesn't value it but what it shows. She never did. She never will.

    Trodden as compared to others, I'm their favourite. The first ray of sunlight kisses my forehead and the babies sleeping in their cradle coo, that's how I start my sunny mornings. Young lads bike over me, pluck those fresh apples drawing roots into me, grown in my lap, they run, they play, I feel alive. My early evenings are filled with the sanguine skies stirred with golden rays of the sun accompanied by falling leaves of the worn out trees I nourished like a mother. And the dusk arrives, entraps me beneath the quilt of stars and hope. I fall into midnight, forgetting all my sorrows and joys, letting the wind tickle my feet and breathe life into me.

    I speak about different periods, at varied times, to these motley beings. Some days I tell the same story differently because very often I forget what I've said before. Sometimes I talk about love as a destroyer and some days I tag it as hope. Some days I talk as if I'm the pieces of broken glass who is afraid of the consequences of destruction but also too tired to put the pieces together because life is another name of suffering. Some days I talk of myself as the tallest sunflower in their garden, who won't bow in front of anyone. But other days I talk of myself as dust and ashes, which no one is ever gonna embrace, and I talk as if I'll be gone as soon as I finish my sentence. Some days I talk like human life is the best gift as a mortal being. But I also talk as if this planet is hell in itself and we're nothing but sweeping off our existence till death kisses our hands. Some days I talk stories, some days I talk silence but I always talk irrevocably poetic.



    @jerry_21 again jerry style prose. Thank you for inventing this style❤

    @kin_jo thank you so much for having faith in me❤

    @writersnetwork thank you for the like ❤

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  • _firefly 37w

    /Sunrise with you on my chest
    No blinds in the place where I live
    Daybreak open your eyes
    'Cause this was only ever meant to be for one night
    Still, we're changing our minds here
    Be yours, be my dear/

    Each day when the sun goes up to greet this part of the planet, I wake up with you lying next to me. The golden rays well entangled in your brown hair, I smile at your innocent self, it's peaceful than heaven. Slowly when those hazel orbs acquaint my sight, this crimson hole in the center of my chest blushes and the universe glows with tenderness of our love.

    /So close with you on my lips
    Touch noses, feeling your breath
    Push your heart and pull away, yeah
    Be my summer in a winter day love
    I can't see one thing wrong
    Between the both of us
    Be mine, be mine, yeah
    Anytime, anytime/

    I can't help but lean on your chest and listen to your heart racing against my flushing cheeks. A fire ignites between us as you kiss me on my forehead and I can't help but falling in love with you. A thought knocks the door of my mind, a thought of gratitude, gratitude towards you for holding me in your arms every time a hurricane stroke us, for you never let us fall apart.

    /Ooh, you know I've been alone for quite a while
    haven't I? I thought I knew it all
    Found love but I was wrong
    More times than enough
    But since you came along
    I'm thinking baby
    You are bringing out a different kind of me
    There's no safety net that's underneath, I'm free
    Falling all in
    You fell for men who weren't how they appeared, yeah
    Trapped up on a tightrope now we're here, we're free
    Falling all in you/

    Sitting on the kitchen counter, I watch you make me my favourite breakfast brimming with love and contentment. I think of all the metaphors I want to write in your name. I think about us as the old classic story which will never fade away. I think of how infinite can one lifetime feel if one gets it's meaning right.

    /Every time I see you baby I get lost
    If I'm dreaming, baby, please don't wake me up
    Every night I'm with you I fall more in love
    Now I'm laying by your side
    Everything feels right since you came along
    I'm thinking baby
    You, yeah, are bringing out a different kind of me
    There's no safety net that's underneath, I'm free
    Falling all in/

    As you lay your head in my lap and close your eyes, I look at the sunset.The sun going down the horizon, covered partially in clouds, a few saffron rays caressing my cheeks, covering my soul in the silhouettes of solace. I stare at you, again, wanting to kiss you, whilst the world goes on or falls apart, who cares. I'm drenched in your existence and you in your dreams.


    @writersnetwork thank you for the ❤

    / lines are from the song fallin' all in you.

    #sunc #fireflyec

    @ayanaa @fromwitchpen tagging you both because you have always been there ♡♡

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    In the core of my heart, I'm very much graved in a lonely cemetery of all the forevers we spent together.


  • _firefly 38w

    Lying in Grave.

    My wilted soul lied in a cist,
    With darkness all over like a quilt,
    I picked my quill with my wounded fist,
    But my words were covered all with silt.

    It pained as the icy breeze touched me,
    And I was numb, filled with void,
    Alone, I cried on the land of misery,
    Where all the possible hope had died.

    My skin was bruised at every square,
    Stark terror seized my chaotic bones
    Made of flower, once I nurtured with care,
    Which had now turned to calm stones.

    And one fine day came my freedom,
    I left everything and flew along it,
    After all I couldn’t live my whole afterlife
    Buried in an isolated tomb.



    The above poem is written from the POV of a dead poet lying in his grave.

    I think I'm going to write a series of poem under this name.


    @writersnetwork #fireflyec

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    / all my metaphors breathe louder than I ever did /

  • _firefly 38w

    Gushing through volcanic eruption,
    Flowing through the streets of hell,
    Burning down all the forests,
    Blazing in all the falling comets,
    Transcending the boundaries of love and hate,
    Cascading into your mind's darkest desires,
    Warming you on an icy cold night,
    Flickering in lanterns guiding you home on a lost day,
    Sizzling in the fiery ball hung in the sky,
    Dancing along with the spirited airs,
    Incinerating all the human pain to ashes,
    Vehemently beautifying the virtues of the gold,
    I make divine things vile,
    I make awful things heavenly,
    I am untempered,
    I am empowered,
    I am the end,
    I am F I R E.


    @writersnetwork thank you for editor's choice again��❤ #fireflyec

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    / I am the sacred frantic fire /

  • _firefly 38w

    'What comfort do we find in silence?' I think as I lay my head on the old, creaky wooden floor of my room. I gaze at the ceiling and hear the melancholic whirring of the ill rotating fan. The dim light of the dying candle flame suddenly catches my attention but I let it die anyway. I hear the dogs barking in a distance as if they don't like this silence like I do. Silence is dark and carries the sound of the clock striking every second to make me realize that my life is decaying slowly, I am decaying slowly. The empty pages of my notebook start fluttering as the wind whispers in their ears. But the overthinking poet in me is silent. My words are silent thence my poetries empty. But this is comfortable, the silence, the darkness, the emptiness because it reminds me of how I belong to no one but myself, of how this world is just a stage and I'm a puppet, a lonesome poetic puppet. A spider climbs upon my chest, I think about how innocent it is to climb upon me and die. I think about how one day I'll be dead and only silence will visit me on my grave. Silence is not just comfortable, it's the friend who'll stick around till after eternity.


    #silence #fireflyec

    Thank you for the ❤ and the editor's choice. @writersnetwork
    Idk what would I do if you didn't support me��

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  • _firefly 39w


  • _firefly 40w


    The air tainted by fumes of hate,
    Where one uses another as a bait.
    But I'm an innocent little girl,
    In this huge toxic world!

    Can't judge who's real and who's fake,
    Humans are venomous snake.
    But I'm a pristine little girl,
    In this huge noxious world!

    Nature's throbbing, no one to hear,
    Mankind's disintegrating, that's my fear.
    But I'm an unsullied little girl,
    In this huge bleak world!



    Thank you for the ♡ @writersnetwork #fireflyec

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  • _firefly 46w

    I know it's lame. But this is all i could write.
    Temp maybe, I'm not sure.

    @writersnetwork thank you for the editor's choice.
    Are you sure tho? XD #fireflyec

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    Its three a.m.
    A time when I'm free from the tantrums of the world.
    A time when my existence doesn't matter to anyone else but me.
    A time where i can think what ever I want.

    Like what if I die if I sleep again?
    I try to think about the moon, stars and everything the universe is made up of but I end up thinking about you.
    You- the way you used to smile for me and world would stop.
    You- the way I never expected you to love me back but you did.
    You- the one person I can't say enough about.
    I start writing letters to you with a wish to post them.
    (Even though I know I can't, I won't)

    I write, write and write till my words start ending, till i have nothing else to write.
    And suddenly (intentionally) my hand spills all the black from the ink pot on it.
    I hope you understand all the things I left unsaid.
    (Once you find me, you'll know, you'll know.)

    With the dawn of the new day I end up being caught in muck of the world.
    (I really wanna be free
    dear reader, won't you rescue your poet?)


  • _firefly 49w

    A Fallen Poet.

    Heere moti mai na chahu,
    mai to chahu sangam tera,
    mai to teri,
    tu hai mera/

    How do I keep all this pain you give inside me? How do I not shout when you pierce my heart wide open and leave it bleeding crimson void and plaintive metaphors? How am I so patient when it comes to you, to love, as if you're a god and I'm your only worshipper. I ask all these questions to myself everyday in a hope that I might find an answer someday, just the way I hope you'll come back once again. But it's all false, it's all silent, it's all hurting.

    Tu jo chhule pyaar se,
    araam se mar jaau mai,
    aaja chanda baahon mein,
    tujh mein hi gum ho jau mai,
    tere naam mein kho jaau mai/

    "Never ignore a person who cares for you and loves you because one day you'll realise you've lost moon while counting the stars", you once said me. And you declared me as the moon to your sky, as the light to your dark and as the ally you'll never want to loose for anything. But one day a hurricane swept off everything we had, us.

    Mere din khushi se jhoome,
    gaaye raatein,
    Pal pal mujhe dubaaye jaate jaate,
    Tujhe jeet jeet haaroon,
    yeh praan praan varoon,
    Hay aise main nihaaroon,
    Teri aarti utaaroon,
    Tere naam se jude hai saare naate/

    And as the dusk arrives, it brings along all the words you said to me, slowly poisoning every drop of my dark blood. Our happy memories skim through my dreams and turn them into nightmares. I feel like the only victim of the charade of love, who's nothing but broken, nothing but dust and ashes. And I still worship you as if you're the only god I've seen and I ingeminate your name on the beads as if it is the only word I know.

    Ye naram naram nasha hai badhta jaaye,
    Koi pyaar se ghunghatiya deta uthaye,
    ab bawra hua man,
    Jag ho gya hai roshan,
    Ye nayi nayi suhaagan,
    hogyi hai teri jogan,
    koi prem ki pujaran mandir sajaye/

    As the night grows dark, your absence hurts more. You took me away from all those who loved me and then left me in the middle of nowhere, even after saying you wouldn't. You told me ours will be a happy ending, but who likes happy endings anyways. I stand there unrescued, as a fallen poet, weaving poetries for you to read. I can't even go back from where we started because all the tears you gave me wiped everything off, and I've no traces left of my steps, of myself.


    Thank you for ❤ @writersnetwork #fireflyec
    / lines are from a song saiyyan by kailash kher.

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    A Fallen Poet.

  • _firefly 51w

    To the one who is my muse,

    And i thought of not thinking about you tonight. I thought of painting my dreams. I thought of writing endless dark poetry. I thought of stargazing, of roaming with the beloved moon.

    But you're all those things to me. I wanted to paint your face when I picked up my brush. I wanted to write about our love when my fingers caressed the quill. It was your face I saw when I looked at the moon. The stars shone like your twinkling eyes.

    I ended up seeing you everywhere, even when you weren't here. And I heard you say, "you can never run away from me, for I am your muse, for I am your art, for I am your poetry." And I blacked.

    You're nothing if not the subject to my art and poetry. You're immortal.

    Yours charm

    #lettersbyfirefly #fireflyec

    Thank you for the ❤ @writersnetwork


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    / I decorate you in my art and the pain you gave in my poetry /

  • _firefly 51w

    To the one who's happiness matters,

    Lying half dead on the porch of your memories, I went back to the day when you kissed me for the first time. I was experiencing it all over again for real.

    We were climbing the stairs out of the library when you stopped for a while to look at the time. It was 11:11, your favourite. Your eyes shone, brighter than the usual. 'Perfect' you said and came closer, in no time it was your lips against mine.

    I am stuck at that moment tonight. I close my eyes and all I see is your optimistic face, with those hazel eyes and wide smile. I put my hand on my ears and I hear you saying my name as if it's the only word left in the world. I feel you, everywhere, near me.

    It seems as if I've been loving you since eternity and will do the same till infinity. I can't remember my happy face when you were not the reason behind it. You're the only always I know. Yes, now you're gone but you're happy without me and that's a big reason for me to smile.

    Yours charm


    @jerry_21 I'm here��

    @writersnetwork thank you for the ❤ #fireflyec

    Line on the bg belongs to sir Pablo Neruda

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    / at night I dream that you and I are two plants that grew together, roots entwined /