At nights when the December's gust blew my lacerations hiding beneath my shrug, my dermis could feel the scorching impetuosity of the irked scoffs & taunts that the world spewed on me .
My legs used to shiver and stumble every Morning while going to school because I was recognized as a , who wrote Love letters to a girl and kept them in her bag which eventually settled down in the dustbin everyday.
People always told me that loving is easy but staying intact on it is itself A very difficult process , but for lovers like us, the idea of falling in love itself Gives goosebumps and makes contumelious pictures . Days when I try to feel a little Proud of myself by putting that rainbow emoji on my bio , vanishes as soon as ears Get to hear those domineer comments of the society.
December gale covers my wrist from where blood oozes out in pain every night when I missed my own self And cursed my existence. There wasn't a single day when I didn't think about Slitting my wrist and ending my existence on earth.
My identity was daubed On benches as "soft butch" "Gold star"and I drank such humilations in silence. I chew all those calumnies and broke down on my bed to kill the love that's alive Inside me. But can you run from yourself? Can you run away from the truth you veiled behind those curtains of imaginary views of this world?
I still wish her throat warbles my name, I still wish my lips plant a seed of realisation of how vulnerable and helpless I'm on her red lips. I still wish she reads the last letter that I gave her before the farewell and comes rushing to me and hugs me tightly and say "I'm with you. I understand you." Because I'm jaded gulping all those melancholy alone.
I want to kiss a girl in a throng of people, I want to dance my heart out with a girl on Valentine's day. I want to sleep with a girl who can dress My mental health with her nudge and love poems.
. . !
नाजाने ये ज़माना क्यु चाहे रे मिटाना कलंक नहीं इश्क़ हैं काजल पिया ।
The saccharine little laments of my sentiment bringing back the ardent meter play of the pink cherry blossom blushing full on the skyline's panorama that is sombre and meagre that lasts undefiled caffeinated straw in my hand while the void heart only pumps pale red blood , so terribly fragile.
Drop by drop, it finds a way to those scandalous expressed dumb things and brings back those delusive glitters of elysian nights. Every sip of the saccharine drink which is made of berries that I intake , takes an impost on me tethering my larynx with virulent liqueur, my tongue turning as ruthless as my confessions will gasp me to death while sleeping on a late dark night and leaving blur series of happiness behind.
I've always been told, but in opposition to that I yell, scream and shout deceiving to stand bold and dauntless, victimized everytime when I tried when I made myself another one of your faults. Drowning numb, zonked and into the murk often attempting to incline to that shimmering moon, the feathers of affection that forges me lunatic and agitated.
Those tiniest pecks on my shoulders hurts me like blades incising my bones in the most defensive way. The sheer and pellucid shroud that protects my unexpected withering jocund array, manages to transude the sanguine stained cloak through the flickering and compulsive pain and that lately cracked stress of denied strokes are kept safe.
Soft touches of rose petals on my ecchymosed skin makes it feel spry at times that grew brown in the illusion called " l i f e ".
Unexpected fulgurating glitter that seemed to bloom full and whole, seeped into my eyes and bled them dizzy because
//the details to captivating tales are always horrendous.//
----------------------------------------------------------------------------- Idk what actually this is.. Maybe a rant of mine *_*
then I'll stare at you with a bemused look for a few minutes and answer in a perplexed tone that I'm a v a g a b o n d who carries a transparent yet an obscure heart in the ribcage and forages metaphors in serenity and tries to hear the clandestines that are camouflaged behind the grey walls of my monotonous room.
If you ask me who I'm
then I might say that I'm a subdued p o e t e s s who hopelessly scribbles for the one who made me believe that forever is a "fable" and broke my heart into myriad of pieces and wrapped it in the box of melancholy and gifted me. I'm a poetess who spews the remains of the torment reposing in my heart since long in the form of my poesies.
If you ask me who I'm
Then I'll say that I'm an underrated p o e m made up of broken words, obscured phrases and nubile vocabulary.I run candidly in the megalopolis of literature unveiling my vulnerabilities and insecurities.
If you ask me who I'm
Then I'll say that I'm a s u r v i v o r of the brain wars that plunges my larynx with slender knives and swords, awaiting the very moment when I'll perish. Shortly, when I would be gone , but till then let me persevere to endure all the havocs that the brain wars create every day.
If you ask me who I'm
Then I'll say with a wide smile on my face that I'm an eensy p u p a sleeping inside the cocoon and anticipating for the day when I'll finally transform into a flamboyant butterfly and float from petal to petal blithely.
//I'm devoid of life, clutching the brook of tears for aeons in my eyes until I let them transude to cry. Quick chokes all of a sudden declines , as soon as I Iet my pangs lie supine on my sleeves so well that now, I seem half dead to myself.//
Hey guys! I'm pretty sure that so many of u might have forgotten me by now. It's my kinda resurrection on mirakee, can say. Resurrection, with lame short poem. I just wrote it to reconnect with u guys. Ping me here in comments, let's talk after an eternity:) Love Madhav
L o v e settles forlorn on her lined face and she hoards more greys than her head can hold. She wobbles by; bloody lips and glazed eyes, sickly smiles and pin pricked heart, I hear the old woman sigh inside her.
And so she plots a revolution but midnight plans often go awry and Dawn smirks on her dying defeat again. But a mother, they say, grows a mountain deep inside her and so, she goes back to silence's screaming embrace.
Declutter, I scream! I stoke on purpose the dragon that sleeps inside her. O no! I'd rattle her, if only to see her break and fall, fall and break but C R Y, But fallacious F e l i c i t y slumbers on her starving mein.
But I'd like to imagine the world was one huge ball of fire one infinite day because she rode her d r a g o n up the sky, Holding the reigns of Genesis between her burning fingers.
And how after the fire was the rain and the earth trembled as it sang Salve Regina!A beginning purged by fire and forged in rain! The beginning of all beginnings.