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  • twographites 3w

    I've been waiting,
    And so the clouds cry alongside me,
    We both mourn someone who is gone-
    And I stumble
    as wind knocks down my crown,
    But at the end of the day
    both our feelings die-
    The rain Shifts to another city
    Whilst I'm left behind.


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  • twographites 5w

    What is magic anyway. If it isn't us. And before you realise it I'm turned into a memory. A memory which cries silently at a distance. You would try to run towards the voice but I'll fade into apocalypses.You might come at me again, and until you're finally on your knees, we'll be dusk and dawn. You may aggravate and disassociate but then I'll hum you in a song.

    We're both survivers of itchy nights.
    You're on one and I'm on the other side.

    I see you've bandaged flowers on your wrist. Is it to hide the cuts or you just feel beautiful? Must be the latter. I'll blow some winds your way. So let go of the guilt that's weighing you down. And I'll be a little selfish here so I'll knock down your crown. I'll make you fit in and give you just enough self doubt. What is magic anyway. If it isn't us.

    I like miles. So I'll maintain a distance. I'll sleep on your side and never finish my sentence. You still remember don't you. The boy who shivered at the end of NH-42 and there was something he wanted to say. You were crying and so was I. Until we both grew cold without any goodbyes.

    You had cried an ocean for a feeling which was lost. It could have been love. But you had cried all night long.

    It's sound of death. It's scary but trust me it fades in an instant. So until we meet again, I'll sleep by your side waiting to finish what was started long back, until you're dust, and until you'll ask me to stay back. Let's live again. After all we're magic.

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    What is magic anyway.

  • twographites 10w

    It doesn't rain on most days
    and some days I'm asleep.

    The clouds-
    I forever chased after as a kid,
    Knock on my skies this day
    And I sigh-
    Whilst they turn red.
    And i sigh
    as I sip on my tea,
    For it has begun to rain.

    It doesn't rain on most days
    So I'll sleep
    And some days I stay up late
    Because it was raining.


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    /I keep running and falling/

  • twographites 15w

    *knock knock*

    Who's there?
    Not you again.

    Why do you keep following me?
    Stop dropping roses on my doorstep
    It has Thorns too you know-
    I could mistake you for an enemy.

    Why do you drop by this hour
    When I'm high on sparkling water,
    And how do you know, that I will anyway
    Pluck the petals and make a bed,
    To sleep in forever? And Ofcourse without you.

    The roses smell of you.
    Nocturnal and of nemesis.
    But You're notoriously slow
    When it comes to making me kneel down.
    Eh, Aren't you?
    Knock knock, Am I strong?
    Yes. Yes I am.

    My arm is aching,
    From holding this knife behind my back for too long.
    I've the handcuffs ready too-
    Tied onto my bed chasing hands.
    How do you know I've been waiting for you?
    That I ate the cake and made a bed of thorns
    To sleep in forever? With you?

    The thorns smell of you
    Intoxicating and of eternal beauty.
    But I'm notoriously slow
    When it comes to kneeling down. Am I not?
    Knock knock, am I weak?
    Yes. Yes I am.

    *Knock knock*
    It's me again.


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    *Knock knock* It's me again.

  • twographites 15w

    Who will cry now?
    Now that I've drunk died-
    Killed due to the rain
    on the window of my car,
    Who will know-
    That there's a scarcity
    Of tears and sadness on my grave.

    Density of water grows in clouds
    When other man
    Molests his daughter and spouse-
    Daughter or mother,
    Husband or father,
    It rains heavily on that fateful day-
    But he doesn't cry.

    Alongside those humans
    Who stroll paths and paths,
    Who know they're to end one day.
    Yet, but, he ends too-
    The other men and himself-
    His daughter and wife too.

    His grave is alongside of those
    Who cry, cry and cry.
    But he's happy to be drunk
    With nothing to weep upon.


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    There's scarcity of sadness at my grave.

  • twographites 15w

    I remember burning under the sun,
    With the half eaten bun and golden freckles,
    And the withered roads Which lead to-
    Rusted nails which embed into
    his existence and mine,
    Into the tin board which hangs
    On the flower shop down the path. It holds us.

    The broken shop and it's wilted flowers
    don't compliment it's clean shaven passerby
    Neither the cavalier which pees on it's roots,
    And Not even the man who stands by his words,
    He will also die with the sun.

    But I,
    who still awaits him, with the bun,
    Coveting the roads to take a turn
    To the time, when the guy with the rum had a life,
    When His now frozen eyes his sung lullabies,
    Seconds before he buried his wife
    And his heart wept forever. Seconds before
    When his ears bled of her screams
    Seconds ago when he was flying high.
    Just a few seconds more, so he could kiss her
    On that evening of valentine.

    On that evening of valentine,
    when I looked pretty in green, lilies
    from the new shop down the path
    and the Middle finger ring.
    I still remember, waiting in February
    And the girl with purple hair who gave me a rose
    And told me to wait a little more and grin.
    Just a little more, almost.

    I've been waiting
    with gray carefully held up on my tearduct,
    With lilies outgrowing between air gaps of my vertebrae.
    Death must be a beautiful couplet
    from a Shakespearean sonnet
    narrated every now and then.
    So I've been waiting,
    Counting from three to one
    For you to come, so I can kiss you once.


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    I'm dead.

  • twographites 16w

    When I reciprocate in Brumal sleep
    Alongside the hobo and nomadic gleam,
    Is when i feel like living and dying simultaneously,
    It is when I'll love her even more.

    I hum Her heart as a dessert on beer o'clock.
    She's the one, between those thin thread facades
    Under the starlit pyre and
    among the nightmares, which i love to hate.

    I can still recall each red freckle velveted in her stare,
    And the lullaby we hummed, before she faded.
    She's the one, somewhere in my ashtray,
    With a bare gray back embellished with
    Six hundred and sixty six back stabs.

    Each jade scrape, which i lovingly claim.

    The void of where her heart should've been
    Now lies cold, narrating tales and stains,
    of how she was plucked from juliet folkfore,
    And sown into julliet rains.

    These letters, which never cohered with her eyes,
    Yet, I've found them in her heart's unstinted hoard.
    And the nights when friction and heat was all I longed for,
    She offered me love. A love so beautiful.

    So let me sing a lullaby. Eir i fade.
    For I left her diseased in gray, i left her
    Tinged in blue because she smelt of another bluff,
    She smelt old, and I'm eight skin layer bold,
    So i left her, she hurt me, i hurt her,
    Now the party's ending so take me home.


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    Take me home.

  • twographites 18w


    Don't love someone fondly enough, he said
    I'm a wallflower on the wall between us,
    And an ode to forever remain.
    Sublime touch and those little giggles i treasure,
    But yet this night, we are nothing but floating cherries
    In a glass of cheap liquor, half drunk
    on our reckless love, but he said
    "I will break your heart", I perplexed.
    Conquer pain, he had commanded,
    But what does pain feel like?
    I'm hurting but, there's a chance that
    Maybe I have forgotten, or
    Maybe i never knew pain what pain was, until
    Until, this hollowness inside me
    was being made aware of my wretched existence.
    This night, I'll carnivalesque anarch
    While Four o clock crumbles the last of stars.
    I'm a phantom in dark denims,
    And my favorite haunt being your dark blue eyes,
    I'll bribe myself for love, but then,
    And then he said, "you labour lie."
    Things are dire when snow Swallows young women
    nevertheless, I was on my knees
    and i felt love, growing inside my bones and, but--
    But he said, "and now you're broken"
    There are some love stories which are better left unspoken.
    And now that i think of it,
    Maybe i had forgotten what love felt like.


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    Anaesthetics and a love so beautiful

  • twographites 19w

    Could have been more happier,
    This day-
    Perhaps sadder too
    And Maybe, just maybe
    I could have found an excuse
    to live,
    But i was gone
    Before it even began
    And So,
    maybe we'll never know.
    Seasons to come
    I won't. Ever.



    //The orange juice was sweet, yet sour.
    The taste of sorrow// -Orange

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    Sweet and sour

  • twographites 19w

    Hey you!
    don't hang on his collar
    He'll choke.
    Why big brother
    why do you smoke?

    He has duties to fulfil
    Pulses and grains to brim tins up with.
    Why big brother
    Why do your hands smell of anguish?

    He has got to work, you know
    Bills won't Pay themselves.
    I've seen you walk on eggshells
    But then why Big brother,
    Why is there always a gift under
    my favorite knit sweater
    On birthdays and Christmas.

    He's a boy,
    He has got to sweat,
    Be strong and leave no regrets.
    But then why, Why big brother
    Why do you look so sad.

    Why are you not allowed any second chance
    Is it because i wear skirts and you pants?

    Why do you hide me behind you
    And say I've got to grow stronger.
    Why when you can always be here,
    For me to hold onto.

    There's a reason for sure,
    And while I'm still figuring it out
    You seem at peace,
    Hanging up from the ceiling,
    Like an angel you are--
    a reason,
    Like you said, I'll grow to understand.


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    The joys of domesticity (II)