Dark is the night. In the distance, the dogs are barking, probably fighting, over a mate, to mate, so human. I am sitting still, staring at the street light, flickering ghost-light, as if a devil is opening and closing its mouth to quarrel, "you aren't scared of me, but lesser than me, ghosts of my kind". And, Across the street, the black cat, licking its claws, as if she wants something of me, I should probably pat her till her claws clutch my veins to rip them open, but I am sitting still. headlights swiftly approaching towards me, I would want them to run over me, not once, not twice, a hundred times, and then tell me, You just ran yourself over, not once, not twice, a hundred times But, here I am sitting still, on the roof of my house, and God knows what I am imagining, if I could help you visualise the height and the edge from where my feet are dangling, you would probably think of me as someone suicidal. And some might know where are these verses coming from, Like my mom, who opens the gate sometimes, and stunningly says, I thought you were upstairs. ✒@furqanahmed33
The obligation is to read the Holy book, and you are not its copy. Beyond the senses of words, our love stood as we claimed the eyes' whispers and had far-off interpretations of the words that fought on our tongues. I meant it when I say; this is beyond words. Prayers for the loss I snuck in, and prayers for you from the places of my heart(the depths that are not known to the ocean), but you are not the prayer itself, nor will I make the prayer beads out of your memories. All the moons that stayed up with me, even after the sunrise, All the haunted dungeons in my soul, loneliness, and solitude, All the depressive, misty, smoke-filled bathrooms, All the faces that couldn't tame me, and most of all, the places I can't find empty of your presence, I will not replace you with anyone or anything but God. My whisperer, there's no other way; you are easy to lose, only this way. @furqanahmed
pinkpantherHi, I really liked your way of writing and would love to have u as the co-author of my upcoming anthology 'The Broken wings'. If interested do connect with me at @yuktibhatiaaa on insta. You will be charged a minimal amount for it.
Your soul is too beautiful to get attention from the human stranger sitting on the bench under the tree on the pavement, eyeing the pouring rain, and smoking with a clumsy will to not put his hand in his pocket again to ash down another cigarette. His eyes gazing at some thought doesn't say a word, but they can make or break your day. And his hands, way too cold to shake, he sees no one as blue as himself. The black bird in his heart always wants him to move in a different direction, different time, different place than yours. Like his cigarettes, he minds lengthy stays. @furqanahmed