she gathered books, like clouds, and words poured down like rain ~the book thief

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  • parthavi_ 2d

    Dear sky,

    From down here, you're like the verses of a poetry, that cloud into metaphors, and rain down like warm hugs. Every day I wake up and try to reach your golden glint, I guess you do that too. But we fail. All we have are those words and air connecting us.
    And you know what? That's what makes us beautiful.
    Will wait forever to witness the day we finally meet.

    ~yours, Earth.

    P.s. do write back.

  • parthavi_ 1w

    as winter arrived,

    the flowers dressed
    with white petals
    and a yellow hat,

    while the trees
    their skeletons
    lurking under
    white dust.

    winter fell into
    the open arms of
    the trees,
    and smiled
    at the flowers
    who decided
    to still remain
    with the spring.



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  • parthavi_ 1w

    there's a river flowing inside
    that guilds into words of ink
    there's a soul wandering alone
    that gives a paper to colour in.


  • parthavi_ 3w

    They say a smooth sea
    never made a skilled sailor.
    A loud restelss sea
    doesn't always make a skilled sailor either.


  • parthavi_ 3w

    Just bored.

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    there are little moments
    that make you love life
    and there are a few seconds
    that make you hate it.

    at the end, that's what life is.


  • parthavi_ 3w

    It's so absurd,
    how the same life
    can seem too small
    to live on
    while at times too big
    to survive in.


  • parthavi_ 6w

    [Miraqull insta]

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    When the music dies,
    the words still stay,
    the notes still ring.

    with every vibration
    and every recall,
    in the brain, and in the heart,
    the music is reborn.


  • parthavi_ 7w

    Dear G,

    I drove to the sunsets we would always drive to, and I gazed at the stars all night. I sat under the same tree and parked the car under the same shade. I didn't pull up a sweater when it froze and I didn't open the umbrella when it rained.
    I did everything we used to do, and I tried to find you. But I felt you.
    I felt your sparkling eyes on the sun, and I felt your chuckles in the cold. I felt your hand like wind, and felt your smile in the rain.
    I couldn't find you, but I did better than that.
    Maybe some day, I'll find you to feel you more.

    ~yours, H

  • parthavi_ 7w


    I could hear a faint ticking sound that came out of the end of my bed.
    It reminded me of something. Oh yes, a bomb. And I imagined what if there was a bomb. What if, just in a few seconds, it would burst.
    And along with it, me.
    And for a second, just for a second, I imagined not existing. I imagined how free and care less I would be if I died. Free of the burden that didn't let me stand. How with me, everything that weighs me down would get destroyed. And I liked it. The idea of death.
    And the next second, I thought of what I had just felt. I felt horror, at the thought of me liking the thought of dying.
    I moved to the end of my bed and looked down.
    It was just a clock that beeped every second.

  • parthavi_ 8w

    YESTERDAY, she was a child.
    There, she was refused cars as toys, and thrust with dolls and miniature utensils. She heard her brother being told to not cry like her.

    Elsewhere, she was asked what she wanted, and given just that. She never cried.

    TODAY, she is a girl.
    Here, she has to watch her mother cry. She has to watch her father curse her mother for no reason on countless occasions. She has a voice, and she has words, and they echo in her mind every second. But somehow, they just remain unsaid.

    Somewhere, she isn't treated like a sinner when she bleeds. Her father takes suggestions from her mother. She's taught to use the words and the voice. Her voice has a sound. A loud one.

    TOMORROW, she will be a woman.
    There, they will doubt if she will be able to handle work and home together. They will say, they support her work. She will know they don't.

    Elsewhere, she will not be termed strong when she will work all day just like her husband and will still look after her home. They will already know she is strong enough to do that. She will not need people to tell her what to do.

    When she :
    was a child,
    is a girl,
    will be a woman,
    she will have to fight every instant and still be called weak, or she would not have to fight at all.
    She will have to fit herself in, or she will be welcomed with open arms.
    She will have to find her voice all life, or she'll be taught to use it.

    At the end, she is a human, and in her eyes, she will always be equal to every human next to her. If she's told otherwise, she would prove that wrong.

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    E V E R Y D A Y

    Yesterday, she was a child.
    Today, she is a girl.
    Tomorrow, she will be a woman.

    Everyday, she is a human.