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  • veloc1ty_ 4w

    A night where we don't let our
    words taint the beauty of silence.
    A night where the most sound we hear
    is from our hearts showing excitement
    for being that close to each other.
    A night where we're busy sending
    each other a few smiles,
    followed by gentle pecks
    that turn into minute-long kisses.
    A night where you prefer to see the
    reflection of stars in my eyes instead
    of the starlit sky above us.
    A night where we hold hands
    tight like we're about to jump
    from a cliff or maybe into a pit of love.
    ©veloc1ty_

  • veloc1ty_ 4w

    tumhari tasveer hum dil me rakh ke chal diye
    yaade mit gayi lekin tumhara chehra abhi bhi yaad hai
    ©veloc1ty_

  • veloc1ty_ 4w

    Now I'm waiting for the rain to bring back
    all the memories that Summer failed to.
    ©veloc1ty_

  • veloc1ty_ 4w

    To think of you at this hour with this drink in my hand is to invite a dire crisis upon myself wherein every thought would lead my feet toward the kitchen stand where the knife rests. Hence begins the urge to slit open a nerve to see if it hurts as much as your silence.

    The clock ticking furiously above my bedroom door reads the anxiousness off my face and asks me to wait for a few minutes; For its minute hand to travel past the 10min mark. All in anticipation of this magical 11:11 wishing fest, I apply brakes to my vicious thoughts.

    With five mins left for 11:11, I start thinking beforehand of all the things I can cram up in between 11:11:01 and 11:11:59. My mind runs around at every corner in search of the things I'm lacking; Things that I am in dire need of and are nowhere around me.

    Finally, 11:11 it screams,
    And ask away, it says.

    I blank out. I trip and fall over my own feet. So do my thoughts. My eyes bounce off the thoughts which are scattered everywhere on the floor. I start gathering them in my arms but they keep slipping off my fingers like the beautiful memories I lost to date.

    I reach towards the end of 11:11.
    Near the last ten seconds, the clock looks at me and starts pacing.

    I close my eyes and spell out the first thing that comes to my mind; your face, with a huge smile hanging from your lips.


    The words that left my mouth in those last few seconds:
    "I wish to see your face glow with the light of a thousand smiles, with me or without me by your side."

    ©veloc1ty_

    The art on the BG is by Valeria Lakrisenko

    Thank you for the kind repost :") ❤ @writersnetwork
    #allthewnreposts

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  • veloc1ty_ 4w

    The burden of everyday things is sitting like a mountain on my chest. I want you to climb upon it and shred through it part by part with your tender palms until you reach the cave where my heart rests.
    Wear my love like an armour and cut through everything that speaks of evil. Relieve me from this god aw-ful misery. I’ve given in to this feeling of helplessness but I know there’s no other hope like you.

    My anxious head is on the brink of explosion. Every fibre within me is aching for an escape. I don’t have it in me to bear another moment, let alone act like I’m strong. I want the liberty to crawl into your arms every time my chest harbours this unbearable pain. I want to press my head deep into your chest and cry like a man who lost everything.

    I wish to run away from this place, to some remote land where I’m not reminded of the evils I’ve encountered within myself or in others. I will follow wherever your heart will lead me. I’m ready to walk a hundred miles if there’s a moment of rest waiting for me at the end of it. Take me to such a place where life doesn’t feel like a prison but make sure it holds just the two of us and the moon.

    ©veloc1ty_

    The artwork on the bg is by Toulouse Lautrec.

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  • veloc1ty_ 5w

    Her fingers smell of the fresh lilies
    she fiddled with on her way to my place.
    And I don’t try searching for any petals,
    between the pages of her books
    or in the braids of her hair.
    For I know she chose not to pluck them.
    For she knows beauty takes your breath away,
    only if you let it breathe.

    Meeting her is like getting to feel
    all the thrill and foolishness of
    drinking water straight from a faucet.
    And her touch is something like getting visited
    By a heavy rain after a long season of draught.
    The skin on my lips feels relieved the moment
    her touch comes pouring down on it.

    Words often find themselves trapped inside her mouth.
    And she only releases them when I’m in her vicinity.
    She looks at me with her mouth
    full of honey-flavoured words,
    that she saved away from everyone
    and smiles when I tell her how I
    crossed days and nights just to hear her speak.

    Her hair, the color of dried leaves, stretches a mile long.
    Although constrained to her head, it’s always on the move.
    Sometimes away from me, sometimes charging at my face.
    It’s a road I know to its very end , but somehow I still get lost in it.

    And her love, the end to this poem, but the beginning to my story,
    was like a free fall I agreed on without checking if there was a parachute
    attached to my back. I simply dove head-first with my eyes closed.
    All I knew was that the landing was at her feet.
    ©veloc1ty_

    Bg: @/michelepetrelliart on insta

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  • veloc1ty_ 5w

    I always feel like writing letters to the sky, thanking it for the immense power it has. Coz nothing breaks my attention from day to day problems like a picture perfect sunset. When I'm staring at it, sitting on the edge of my chair, I fail to come up with reasons to lose my smile. Looking up, I start to realize that the world is indeed beautiful, inside out. Problems begin to surface only when I'm looking away from it.

    Anyways, it's always a pleasure to be visited by a sky that isn't your regular blue or white. Albiet, the cost you end up paying is a huge amount. i.e the growing yearn for a second visit. Coz similar to lightning, luck doesn't strike twice in the same place. Or maybe it does, but I haven't witnessed it yet.

    Lately, with so less days left in Summer, I've been rendered restless; I've been running devoid of patience to see a horizon that is draping colours like a modern canvas. I had the luck of seeing ethereal sunsets last year, I wonder what happened this time around. Are the gods mad at me? I wish the kid in me gets to see a couple of beautiful sunsets. Before a mob of dark clouds start gathering daily before my eyes, I wish to see the soft ones blush like nobody's watching. I'm even ready to hide behind a curtain, if it means getting to see the sky to its fullest.

    ©veloc1ty_

    wrote it this evening after seeing a sunset after god knows how many days

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  • veloc1ty_ 5w

    I don't expect anyone else to put forward an apology but as someone who people look up to, I bear a responsibility to apologize for all the wrong things i did.

    (This is an apology only and only to my readers who had to watch me post all the stuff. )

    While choosing to fight for the right thing, I ended up crossing the limits. I ended up spreading hate out in the open which wasn't my intention but it did happen. I'm genuinely sorry for all the hurt I caused to my readers.

    From here on now, I won't be getting myself involved into anything, whether it's right or wrong. I'll choose to stand by and ignore things coz my readers don't deserve to see the drama through my posts. I won't be using my readership to post anything other than my writing.

    Thank you to all who reached out to me. I'm really grateful to have people like you in my life. I'm really sorry it had to come to that. I have been nothing but a disappointment in the last couple of days. I'll have to live with that. Sorry.

    ©veloc1ty_

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  • veloc1ty_ 5w

    "So...." Sitting across her in the mall cafeteria, a syllable leaves my mouth and manages to break her attention from the book she's reading. (The book----The fault in
    our stars---my favorite. About to be hers as well, as soon as she finishes it.)
    The curiousity in her eyes spells out the word 'yes' followed by a small question mark.

    "How far have you reached?" I ask.

    "Chapter ten" She answers, "Hazel and Augustus are going on an expensive date. None of them paid for it though."

    "Ah! Amsterdam." I smile, reliving a brief glimpse from the pages following after the chapter ten.

    "Listen..." I murmur under my breath, touching my hands together in nervousness. She notices it without fail.

    "You look like you're about to confess a murder or something" She laughs." Should I be scared?"

    'Close.' I think, 'Well, I am about to report a crime. But it's not murder and it's not committed by me. It's theft and I believe you're the person behind it. My heart's been missing since I met you. I know you've stolen it.'

    I dismiss the thought knowing it could potentially bring out nothing but laughter from her. I stick with my regular dose of awkwardness, the one she's used to.

    "Uhmmmmm."I murmur again. "Would you be mad if I say I like you?"

    "No." She replies instantly. "Why would I be mad? I like you too."

    "No." I raise my voice a little. "I mean. Not in that way."

    I gather some courage to pump out the heavy words stuck inside my throat. And I start laying them down on the table, "I like you more than a friend. I like you like Hazel likes Gus. And like Gus likes her back."


    She closes the book and slides it away to make space for her hands. She takes a minute to process it. Then turns her head away for a few seconds and then looks back at me, "Go on." She says. "I'm listening."

    Thinking that it's now or never, I start pouring out all the remaining bottled up feelings in front of her. "I'm not entirely sure if you feel the same way but I can sense a deep connection between us that I hardly feel around anyone else. I've always found myself bearing a heavy weight on my chest, the good kind ofcourse, everytime you've chosen to smile. It's like your joy is somehow interconnected with mine. Everytime I'm with you, in person or on the call, I become the happier version of myself. And between meeting online and offline, I prefer the latter coz when you're close to me, breathing at a palm's distance, it feels like spring."

    Her cheeks start turning pink, the colour of the flowers that bloom during spring. I lay my hands on top of hers and press them into a tender grip.

    "There's only one life we are rewarded with. And I don't want to waste a single year from it being tied to someone who isn't you. I want to see you in the memories that I'll be creating in the future. So when I'm on my deathbed, I'll get to smile looking back at every
    single one of them, even shed a few tears, but only happy ones."

    Her eyes begin glistening in the light above us. Visible tears layer up at the end of her eyes, waiting to jump and slide down her cheeks once she finds a way to speak.

    I kneel down on my knees, putting all of the faith I had saved till now for this moment. I take out the ring from my back pocket and hold it up before her soaking wet eyes.

    "Uhmmmmn" I murmur, "Would you be mad if I say I love you?"

    "No." She smiles, wiping away the pool of tears, "Why would I be mad? I love you too."

    ©veloc1ty_

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  • veloc1ty_ 6w

    My legs search for a home
    I don't have a connection to.
    They keep walking the distance
    on their own, tired yet restless,
    without any hope but with a will
    to keep on marching indifferently.
    It's been a while since I've taken
    a breath of relief, my legs have started
    to stutter, my lips have been totally sealed.

    Words don't find a way out of my mouth now,
    they keep echoing inside my head.
    It seems like they have found their home there,
    inside of me while I myself struggle helplessly
    to call a place my own.

    But while I'm failing to find solace anywhere,
    my mother, she seems to have found a home
    in me. While I struggle to see myself
    as anything more than a waste of space,
    my mother, she begs to differ,
    she puts all of her pride in me.

    Keeping away the diary in which
    I scribble my poems, she expresses
    her heavy liking towards my poetry,
    she often ventures out of the four walls
    my father constrainted her into,
    with the help of the words I created for her.
    With just a pair of glasses, and her
    shaking hands holding the book upright,
    she happily leaves for the land
    that exists only in the pages I weaved for her.
    ©veloc1ty_

    #napowrimo #writersnetwork

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