pearlshetty

instagram.com/thediaryofamoonchild

Meme enthusiast. Nyctophile. Word weaver. I can talk about BTS all day����

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  • pearlshetty 2d

    "Could you, maybe, make it a little less painful?"

    She smiles. "How would you know, then?
    That I was here"


    ©thediaryofamoonchild

  • pearlshetty 6w

    we're bent around the edges
    like a misshapen masterpiece
    tiny specks of color over the crease
    a story fledges
    from these soaked smudges
    of paint, oil, and grease
    and your fingers, they tease
    along the hedges
    where art begins, we end
    raw and ripe, like a mystery
    maybe our story was never meant to be penned
    like a fleeting misery
    there's only so much to mend
    we stay as pieces of a forgotten history

  • pearlshetty 66w

    MUSE

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    my muse is a constant
    like the sea breeze
    and the sound of waves
    unwavering, like the flowers
    that bloom in deserts
    my muse is art and love
    an unusual conundrum
    in an ocean of answers
    my muse is like the petals
    placed under his feet
    and the colour of the rain
    the sound of the sky
    specks of bright red
    on a dark canvas
    my muse is solitude
    my muse is loud
    and everything in between
    my muse is beautiful
    in a way that makes you look
    once, twice, and never look away

    ©pearlshetty

  • pearlshetty 69w

    Burn

    The lies we tell each other
    Serve as a means to fill hate
    Where there once was
    Love
    And I think of the times
    You looked at me
    And smiled through the tears
    And held me so close
    Scared to let go
    Now you tell me
    How every touch burns
    And how the flames
    We once sat down to light up
    Burn us along as well
    I wonder why my eyes still
    Search for you
    When someone repeats
    A funny story for the millionth time
    I wonder why I find you
    Looking back each time
    And I wonder if it's true
    That every lover you had
    And lost
    Will carry a piece of you
    Until there's nothing more left
    Of you
    And you smell strange
    Like an amalgamation
    And your new lover tries
    To kiss away the pieces of me
    That you still hold
    But I'm filling you into
    Poetry
    To touch, to feel
    To cry
    Anything that makes me feel alive.

    ©pearlshetty

  • pearlshetty 87w

    Please do not use without credits ♥️

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    How to Define Love

    My uncle once told me
    That we don't love anymore
    Like they did
    That our eyes don't hold
    The same joy
    Theirs did
    And maybe he's right
    Because we don't stay in
    A stranger's bed
    Longer than necessary
    We wake up and walk back
    To our own beds
    At 2 am because we can't
    We won't get sleep anywhere else
    And we don't stay
    In people's arms
    After they've lied
    And slapped
    And spit on all our dreams
    Over and over again
    And we don't whisper to
    Each other
    Sweet nothings as much
    As we tell each other
    Why and how and when
    We're wrong
    And we have a list of things
    We don't like
    We won't do
    And maybe our definition
    Of love is too open
    That it has limited
    The number of people
    Who can walk in
    And walk all over us
    And maybe our love
    Is spending too much time
    In cafes
    Chatting about capitalism
    While sipping on
    Over-priced coffee
    And maybe our love
    Is too busy writing
    Essays about feminism
    While working
    A 9 to 5 job
    And that's why
    Maybe all the old school
    Thoughts about love
    Have been discarded
    And love now looks
    Like simple nods and smiles
    And splitting of bills
    And love now tastes like
    Some ginger tea
    And too much whiskey
    On blacked out Saturday nights
    And love now doesn't knock
    More than once
    Nor does it wait
    Love only expects you
    To love yourself
    A little more
    Than you loved love before.


    ©pearlshetty

  • pearlshetty 102w

    It's OKAY

    This is the reassurance you were looking for
    While you scrolled through pictures
    Of that pretty girl who went partying last night
    Or that old crush who got married

    You'll feel heart break
    Strung across
    Forty different paragraphs
    At 12 am
    And you'll only express
    Your anger
    In angry smashes
    On your keyboard
    But you'll soon
    Smile over some
    Good morning texts
    Or a hilarious meme
    And things will be okay
    Someday, you'll go through
    A mid-life crisis
    In pictures of old days
    Spammed across your
    Timeline

    And it's okay
    Because you're here
    In parts
    And as a whole
    And sometimes,
    All you need is
    An image of a cat
    Wearing a hat
    Or a dog trying
    To speak
    Or someone
    Dying to know
    Of your funny mishaps
    And someone
    Asking
    If your day was okay.

    ©pearlshetty

  • pearlshetty 106w

    A/n : This is based on BTS' new single Black Swan which is an absolutely beautiful song that hits too close to home. You should definitely give it a listen and then, come back and read my piece.
    Thank you ��

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    BLACK SWAN

    There's fresh air above your head
    But you're buried in the ground
    So many inches deep
    You can't tell
    If you're floating or suffocating
    There's the scorn of
    People who tell you
    That love doesn't help
    And art doesn't heal

    But you don't tell them that
    Because they're honest
    The strings of purple paint
    Strewn across
    That old cardboard
    Won't help you
    Not tremble
    At simple questions
    Those piano notes
    On your song
    Won't help you sleep at night
    Those shoes
    You wear as you move
    Ever so lightly across white
    Rooms with mirrors
    Too large
    Won't help you
    Not procrastinate
    Your assignment for weeks

    But they don't know
    That in intricacies of your art
    You find that heavy feeling
    In your chest fade
    That tear you held back before
    Fall, too heavily
    That as long as you have art
    You can feel the fresh air
    Make it's way
    Through your chest
    And for a little while
    You breathe.

    ©pearlshetty

  • pearlshetty 111w

    SIMPLE WAYS

    You see the world
    Has a way
    Of making you think
    That people aren't worth it
    And the dull lull
    Before you drift off to sleep
    Is the only calm you'll
    Ever find.
    But you know better
    Because you've had 4am
    Conversations
    With people
    About your favorite band
    You know better
    Because you've watched someone
    Wait all day
    To text you about
    That one promotion
    They got.
    Because you've seen
    Stars in the eyes
    Of people
    When you talk about
    Forgotten
    Old songs that you both once loved.
    Because you've shared
    Playlists, and books
    And talked about
    How Mona Lisa
    Isn't really beautiful
    And you've
    Bonded over
    Your hatred for reptiles
    You've laughed
    At weird memes
    At 5 am with other people
    Who couldn't sleep
    You know better because
    You've sent beautiful
    Messages to people
    At 12 am
    And they've sent you
    Pictures of your favorite people
    And things
    With a small "good morning" text
    You know better
    Because you've loved people
    And you have been loved
    On beautiful nights
    And dull mornings
    In the most simple of ways

    ©pearlshetty

  • pearlshetty 131w

    ART

    You're told to live in the moment. That when you try to capture them on camera, the moment is far gone. Lost in translation.

    But here's the thing. If a moment doesn't make you want to freeze it, quite literally so, behind your lens, then it's simply not magical enough.
    The next time someone tells you that your poetry about rain is some "deep shit that doesn't matter", make sure you write two extra verses about how the loud thud of the door due to the freezing wind that blew past into your house, cancelled all else that was noise.

    The next time someone laughs at you for trying to analyze that piece of modern art that probably meant nothing but was created "by someone who smoked too much pot", make sure you sit and draw two more lines, in the most crass way possible, over your own artwork.

    The next time you're told you're being too dramatic for crying over a song that you've kept hidden in your playlist for years, make sure you turn the volume a little higher.

    For there's too many things too boring in this world. Make sure your art isn't one.

    ©pearlshetty

  • pearlshetty 144w

    WILTING ROSES

    I'm a hypocrite of sorts
    Writing poems about love
    While feeling suffocated
    In its vicinity;
    Not telling you
    That when you run
    Your fingers through my skin,
    It burns
    And the next day,
    I wake up
    With scars and wounds
    Deep,
    You name tastes weird on my tongue
    And your marks
    Too foreign.
    I don't tell you
    That the flowers you bring
    Everytime
    You come
    All the way across
    Cities
    To meet me
    Remind me
    Of funerals
    And how our love
    Is dying, too
    And I find myself
    Smothered by the fragrance
    Choking on the words
    You leave ringing in my head
    Everytime you find
    A new way to tell me
    That you love me
    More each day.
    And I'm counting the days
    Backwards
    So you stop feeling
    And I stop hurting
    Your love
    Tries to build me up
    By breaking me down
    Into pieces
    And I'm shattering
    As I fall
    I'm wilting
    Much like the last
    Bouquet of roses
    You left
    Behind.

    ©pearlshetty