I'm looking at you, cause I love blue and grey ♡

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  • taetae_ 7w

    @miraquill @writersnetwork can't change my username or dp :( what should I do? Please help ��

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    learning to live
    every today

    learning to look through their eyes, how they smile sweetly with eyes but haunt simultaneously.
    learning to wear my invisible cloak around visible danger signs or yea, people.
    learning to weave a cute rainbow on purple sweatshirt and customize it for the upcoming christmas.
    learning to catch silhouettes of peace in little things.
    fear floats in my head like lilies, under the moonlight, dyspnea takes over as I lay still on the floor, watching black swans happily swimming around me.

    I'm left in awe, how the boy collects fresh yellow buds, customizes those leaves and by the time he gives the girl, they bloom.
    I'm learning to make my poems bloom just before my reader receives them.


  • taetae_ 8w

    #miraquill #writersnetwork #pod

    Thought you left me alone :'( @writersnetwork ��

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    poems light me up
    like one of those candles,
    in the church, high on hope.

    poems light me up like one of those candles, in the church, high on hope. silver stained aspectabund tries well to be happy, however in a act. while, life is a barren field frozen with snow, only seeds of hatred, grew flowers, but thorns of truth. fallen leaves gather around those torn pages, far from my reach.

    love is a growing garland around the catacomb of my hope, stars climb up on my roof as night climbs onto my window. surreal love maze holds tight onto my head, as hurricanes of doubt and anxiety visit me every midnight. caramel loveletters in braille letters, touching my tears, every punctured hole grazing my wounded fingertips, a laugh in the sea of sadness, I fall into the same abyss everyday.

    my heart is like a gloomy empty postbox, quieter than before....listening to kids (stories) playing in the street. a pied piper visits me in dreams wishing me a good night, a light in the sea of sadness, makes my daily routine's evening segment a little better. my little sobs and snores the noise is like music to his ears, I wish to pay him like that, with my deep sleep to his songs.


  • taetae_ 8w

    Iss waqt ki mujhe khwaish nahi, pehle se hi kahin thi yeh dil mein chupi.....

    World split into two hemispheres to chose between sun and moon, while I start to choose between mornings and nights, which I never get to decide or choose. I'm walking on the same street that I did years before, but this street lost all it's aesthetic values. Not a fort is the same, not a street vendor thinks like before. Not have I changed or the evening. Dew stands on my head like before earth begins to rotate.

    Altered dresses don't fit standards anymore, as people chose characters by dresses. Books level up, but kids stay the same.....dumb. By the twilight, sunsets manage to get out of my memories, while I'm still editing my assignments carefully. The same reel of bohemian beaches full of orthodox shores, carefully delivering shells and pearls on for some gypsy souls. By 5, Amit trivedi and Shankar-Ehsaan-Loy duelling with Sulaiman and Mohit Chauhan, I'm still chasing between stars, that I don't belong to. Well, they don't know how much they helped me all through my years on earth.

    Flower child cornered by autumn, whispers about spring-tales wanting a beautiful year. Ranting about unknown people, setting myself some boundaries, I overthink the nth time before I see my clock turn from 1 to 10. It's easy to count numbers, but easier to pass time thinking around, when some birds fly past my balcony. It's still the same day and some drizzle makes it better as I miss sunshine with my morning cup of coffee.


  • taetae_ 8w

    peacefully shaping words (myself) onto
    my one last sculpture....

    each line dragged out for
    smelting in my woods,
    fire breathes aureum
    tiffany stained glass
    reflects my sour domains
    filters poems off my soul
    abnegates fate off my skin
    serial lies caught
    my heart,
    in a silvery web,
    stoning a one last rock
    like my face,
    multiple words adored like
    antique piercings to my ears,
    some memories lay
    over my eyelashes,
    I wish to be fake,
    to throw all of 'em away into seas someday.

    colors drench
    from within the sculpture
    from my soul,
    red for kisses from mother,
    blue for long days with tired eyes,
    white like pearls to tears,
    bronze skin,
    pink blush,
    yellow like dewdrops as dreams hang onto my eyes,
    black for my hair,
    raindrops to my iris,
    evergreen memories.

    quiet when I scream inside,
    peacefully shaping
    extra details onto the sculpture,
    butterflies carry dandelion ligules,
    onto my hair,
    where my lonely firefly nestles,
    breathing out warm breathes,
    while listening me speak
    through my mask.


  • taetae_ 8w

    fragile are dreams,
    or me?

    crawling into my dreams before the grey night unwinds,
    draining all wordly myths of success into whirlpool of hope,
    convincing my bohemian heart and bronze skin with sumptuous alhambresque soul for another try,
    shuddering like an art on the church walls, to begin with again, I leave,
    following the only star that lights in my universe to get my inner child back.


  • taetae_ 8w

    Shelly, heart me once more....
    weave me a new sunshine across my door!

    white snow melting
    around the flue,
    last night snowstorm
    stopped by twilight,
    for now fireplace has lighted
    my tears burning in there,
    give light.
    Shelly, heart me once more,
    weave me a new sunshine, across my door!

    new day blooms
    like fresh bread in oven,
    beautiful bluebirds fly to me
    with my christmas gifts,
    icing my sweets,
    while I leave a bookmark in my novel,
    slipping out of the grey sheets,
    onto cold tiles
    I find my room filled with a new smell of hope
    Shelly, heart me once more,
    weave me a new sunshine, across my door!

    my guard broken
    like window panes,
    as I crumble some cookies,
    for turtledoves that guard my doors,
    my anxiety and depression
    seems to be drowning
    in sweet aroma of
    hot chocolate silently sings canticles,
    Shelly, heart me once more,
    weave me a new sunshine, across my door!

    until next christmas ~


  • taetae_ 9w

    the moonchild's metanoia - melt in mágoa of mizpah

    winters adore
    pale cheeks of moonchild,
    colourful feathers of love-birds.

    a lovely myth of moonchild,
    gets back to earth before it snows,
    as it says ----

    // hearthstones melts in,
    fire called sacrifice,
    with a toska inside.

    snow is made of pure rain,
    while clouds take birth
    from fumes of hatred from earth,
    clouds given a single task
    to turn this hatred into love.

    this love needs to be sent
    back to earth,
    to let hatred be ignored. //

    before new year begins,
    filled with flaws, yet empty,

    the snow is thus bought down to earth by-

    // angels alamort in crisis,
    they face towards skies,
    reach out their hands
    for love from above.

    crystals of snow,
    roll down from seventh heaven,
    flake-like petals of heavenly flowers,
    fly down to earth.

    when love lands down,
    bright mistletoes above,
    make things be light and calm,
    in the end,
    to let go the mágoa of mizpah. //


  • taetae_ 9w

    under the sunshine

    let me get
    our shadows

    let me arrest
    the sunshine
    for this.

  • taetae_ 9w

    don't get back to my poems
    if you don't want to stay forever
    in my lines

  • taetae_ 9w

    shades confuse more when on heart than skin

    shades of skin
    don't change
    as much as of soul's.