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heartofmuse · 5 years

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You feel so cold, so distant, that I often wonder if I imagined your warmth, that warmth that seeded sunshine in my heart and a heartfelt smile on my lips. Now I can hear the frostbite in your voice, your eyes full of sleet. I am just another person now. What made me special in your eyes has died. Will you ever look at me that way again, I wonder, like a man that sees a star and holds its fire in his heart.

e.v.e. (When a star dies)

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manyasaxenawrites · 5 years

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I never understood what people meant by “your past is catching up with you” until I met you, again, and fell in love with you, again.

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a-silent-loverr · 6 years

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♡

Look at me flying high

After you clipped my wings

And burned them down

To make sure I never dream

I revived the smile

You took away for selfish needs

And my cheeks seem lighter now

I brushed down your

Bullet like words from my skin

Sorrow doesn't linger

Darkness doesn't have a home in my bones

I'm free of remorse, stranger of guilt

Cutting my heart in two

Wasn’t that bad as it had seemed after all

For in tears I understood

The worth of a grin.

When you left I realized

In your eyes, I saw the truth

I was the only soul

That could complete my heart

The only one I had to forgive

I was the one to make peace with.

Without you I thrived

I climbed and broke down

The walls you have built

Atop I sat, over the pile of bricks

Glancing at the world and the beauty I missed

Smiling at the sky, I weaved my wings

From the clouds that kept me company

I whispered a thank you to your lips.

Had you not let go of me

I would be here no more

Instead I’d be afraid to fly, afraid to fall

For I wouldn’t know

How to catch myself

Or how to save such grave descend

And now look at me, my love, I fly so high

Without the heavy weight of your kiss

Look my love, how bright I smile

You’ve been right the whole time

I deserved someone better than you; me.

.

~♥~ A collaboration withe the absolute wonderful @alex-a-roman. This was soo heartwarming to write.~♥~

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poetselixir · 6 years

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Poet's Elixir Prompt Week #6 (03/09 - 8/09)

Thank you to everyone who participated in last week’s prompt! Amazing work! This week we have decided to go with two prompts-

- Torn Cloth

- Nyctophilia (Love of the night or darkness)

You can submit any form of poetry, writing, art, music, etc. as long as it is original. Tag your posts with #poetselixirprompt and #poetselixir

.For writings not related to the prompt, use the tag #poetselixir only.

Also, make sure to look out for the tags on all our reblogs, we usually drop in our feedbacks or comments in the form of tags.

Note: Please tag with the correct spelling of #poetselixir. It is not #poetselixer.

If your post is not reblogged by us within 48 hours, please bring it to our notice.

We look forward to seeing what you come up with! Happy writing!

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manyasaxenawrites · 5 years

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~ In that moment I chose myself. I wandered with my heart on my sleeve, you took it by your hand and crushed it, my soul along with it. In that moment I chose myself. You put all your burdens on my weary brain and I was fine until you left me to rot in my self pity. In that moment I chose myself. You told me about your inhibitions and I tried to make it okay with you only to have it all bite me in the back ; you told me that you'll never forgive me and I too could never. It was in that moment that I chose myself and am planning to choose myself first from now on.

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manyasaxenawrites · 5 years

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Of cracks and ruptures

I thought I knew death, what a body goes through when is put out of misery. I thought I understood what it feels like to die, to lose all that you ever had, to be distraught and helpless; to not breathe. I understood at once. This is where I write about all the while I thought I was dead.

I died a little when I learned that I wasn’t wanted in this world in the first place. It started with a fear of forever being hated but gradually turned into anger; hatred towards the system, the system that questions you for being a particular gender. I hated every bit of that story and that left me numb. I was numb to my core and no one came to my rescue. ‘Numb’ what an astonishing feeling, not a feeling at all. Your body, processing so much information, trying to make sense of its person; failing.

I died some more the day I discovered that people leave you at some point when their time is up. I died when my grandfather died and didn’t know how to react to that; I still don’t know how to process that. I went through my computer and read every article possible to explain what it meant and nothing could explain the cracks that I felt in my brain or my heart. I remember questioning God for this and realizing that a piece of clay can merely make your home beautiful and can provide nothing more.

I died a little more when I went away to study, leaving my family behind. 6th August 2014, I remember distinctly, I don’t remember breathing any day after that day. All those glares, those inappropriate touches against my body, those voices that I heard, the taunts, the grim look on those people who told me that it’s my destiny because I was born to be oppressed. I remember not eating, not feeling, not talking for days. The last seal broke and I stopped moving too.

I died some more when I understood what it actually felt to die. I realized why people take their lives in their own hands and end it; 2016 was a hard year. I saw 6 people die in front of me and I couldn’t stop them. I would have held their soul, held them close to me if I could have; I would have hugged them so tightly and taken away their pain. But I failed. I stood there, Disoriented, not being able to move and lost the opportunity to do any of those things.

I died again that night when my brother was taken away. The fear of losing him forever still haunts me. It is then when I regained faith in god, the idols that I shunned my entire life, stood next to me and helped me through that time. I lost my sense of familiarity with the world, I thought I knew how the world worked but I was wrong again. He is fine and home but it feels so real the fact that I could’ve lost him.

I carry with me, these marks of my past. The past that had made me, who I am today, I have died all those times and lived through those times. I still don’t understand much of what my body does the triggers it feels and earthquakes it sustains. I am not a strong person and it certainly hasn’t made me any stronger, if anything I am left with questions, countless questions, and the answers of which I don’t think I can ever get. There’s so much hate in this world, there’s so much hate for a body, a being, a person. I thought I knew death, all this hate, and all these deaths, can I survive this, I don’t know that yet.

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a-silent-loverr · 6 years

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Silence could never

be enough for me

I have always wanted

One word, just one word

from your heart to mine; love

.

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manyasaxenawrites · 5 years

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The Stranger I met 4 years Ago

Water on the streets, creating an illusion of a mirror, perhaps, a mirror only. Sat by the cold glass wall of the cafe at the Central Market, waiting for the day to go by. Sitting beside me, I saw those watchful eyes, dreaming, with open eyes. The kind of eyes that never rests perplexed but not really. Writing in my thought journal, a process, I dread. There had been a murder recently in the city and 20 million people, still drawn towards the race that is life. The crime scene is set, barricades put, police rushing in and out with the autopsy reports. As far as we know, it’s murder. I looked up my journal and found the stranger looking deep gone in my writing and with a, rather, muddled gaze, he stood up and left. This behavior is not odd in this city and I never judged him for he read all those gory details at 9 a.m. on a Monday morning. As I took the last sip of my Caffé latte, I felt a cold stare coming directly diagonal to me; it’s a blessing, peripheral vision. The stranger sat down next to me, it was my time to be perplexed and he gave me that space. We ordered another round of caffeine for what was coming ahead needed a mind that could think.

After exchanging details in the 5 mins time span that is set for small talk, we started getting out of topics to discuss but he stayed as if he knew that there will be an end to this meeting. He began to question me on what he had read in my journal and I was more than happy to let him know about all the abominable details. Those were simpler times; there was no Netflix, nothing else to talk about other than Moral Philosophy and the birth of Morality. 30 minutes passed and the discussion had escalated to a point of impasse, where no one had anything more to contribute, nothing more to say, to hear, to think. “Fear”, he exclaimed, “makes us do terrible things.” It didn’t make any sense then like it makes now and yet as intrigued as I was in understanding what he meant, I also had to be somewhere as an obligation. “Well yeah, to cover their tracks, people do crazy things”, I affirmed. He looked up, then through the glass wall; outside and I knew that he had something to say, “Fear-”, he started “-not just to create an alibi, fear in general, the literal meaning of which we all understand but in different ways.”, clearly getting on to something, he added “for birds, fear may be losing their home; bad weather, for the Barista; a bad customer. For me, to not know enough fears me and for you, right now, not being able to reach, wherever you want to reach, on time.” I sensed a deep shudder in my spine, a shudder so loud and apparent that the entire cafe could make it out.

He went on speaking, “a long long time ago, during the days of Noah, there was a boy, his name was Elijah, his parents had long gone due poverty and had a granddad on a verge of dying. There had been a warning issued of the ultimate doom of the world and that boy, Elijah, was happy, for once in his life-it wasn’t going to be difficult to live. Little did he know that the end of times was far too long into the future and till then they had to survive for which he cheated, traded, looted and ultimately gained enough fortune to subsist life. It was a month before the doomsday that Elijah got a deadly case of smallpox and died 10 days before the end of times. When reached the gates of heaven, Elijah was asked to accept his crimes and justify his actions to which he bellowed no guilt and pleaded all his acts as the acts of necessity”. At this moment, I had already forgotten about the arrangement that I had to attend to and was wholly engrossed in this story of his, “after so many centuries of perilous labor, Elijah was given a chance to appeal to his crimes and admit them again, which he denied, yet again. The entire empire shook this time, trying to understand how a person who has done such crimes be so merciless and prude about what he had done. Elijah, however, now put on stands starts to explain the gods who were clearly disturbed about this fact. He goes on to explicate how his actions were directly related to the conditions that were put onto him by man and the gods. He had to do what was right for him, for his survival.” Not agreeing to the argument made, my expressions did make it clear, “-Elijah was of the belief that had his deeds been as bad as they seemed, he wouldn’t have been dead just before the end of the world, which took the lives of everyone, irrespective of their Moral bent and his was a peaceful death, without any burden or pain. And for that, he was happy as it was a blessing in disguise.” As he ended this fable, he took the last sip of his coffee, packed his bag and stood up. He looked down at me and for the first and the last time said “there’s a lot right and a lot wrong in this world and an immensely powerful story behind every such action, the decision to look at an act as an act only or delving deep into it is your call, you have the power to analyze and evaluate each situation, use it well.” and left.

In this 2 hours long conversation, I had learned a way to look at the state of affairs differently, the caged singularity of thoughts that lived in my small mind had opened its door and flew right there with the words that I am able to pour down on this piece of paper. I looked down my journal, fixated at the cutting of the said murder trial that said ‘irregular evidence’, now in hope to find clarity and in that hope alone, I went to the barista, one more time and ordered another Caffé latte for it was too late for me to fulfill my said commitments.

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manyasaxenawrites · 5 years

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~The warmth and comfort. Knowing and not knowing, at the same time. Those sighs on the shoulder and a world within it. The sense of distraction and coming back to where it was last seen. running, colliding and drifting away , still finding them everywhere. The reason and the problem, all the same. remembering everything and nothing at all. of them surrounding with gentle touch and arriving where it all begun. Knowing and not knowing, Truly~

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manyasaxenawrites · 6 years

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Now that I’ve grown up, I’ve realized that people are not tired because they are physically exhausted but because they are too emotionally and mentally drained.

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manyasaxenawrites · 5 years

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It's not being Modest, it's Self Doubt

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a-silent-loverr · 6 years

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♡

There was a fire in my tongue that he couldn't see. Heat felt like love. He touched and never saw his fingers burning away

I was too mesmerized by the beauty of dancing flames. Watching them flower and petal into crimson leaves and shadows that...(I didnt stop them from running away, imprisoning his heart)

Darling, my every footprint aches in agony of the hurt I left you by. (Carrved your skin and flesh into the letters of my name)

Forget me please. I whisper to ashes now. (blown away into the wind) Tears (water) will kiss better than fire, my love (I am sorry. please)

// listen to the wind. It brings you my...goodbye //

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a-silent-loverr · 6 years

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♡

A love letter travestying my lips. I held her words in my hands, stroking each letter like it was a strand of her hair

It's 5:30 in the morning, (right now) and I can hear the melancholy tone of her writing in these pages.

Funny, isn't it? when the sunlight falls on our empty bed in the morning only then can I feel the sorrow in her lies

She said she loved me and I kept those saccharine words safe in the night. But now when light falls on fingers that once touched her skin .

. I realize that her love was nothing but a beautifully composed goodbye

// This is 'my' story //

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a-silent-loverr · 6 years

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War-zone

Another hand taken for peace,

Blood in the name of love,

Can you hear the drops slipping

through swords and guns.

Can you hear the children

crying in the dark,

Eyes

shining in terror,

So beautiful

so stark.

The innocence of the world

they do not know,

Why seeds of hatred

just grow and grow

into fruits of war.

Sit and hide while you can,

Tables can’t seem to shadow

a grown man.

Their tears couldn’t

pave a way,

They are kids

they don’t understand

what generals have to say,

But now as the veil of night descends

upon the fields of blood,

Humanities cruelty

seemingly knows no ends.

Perhaps

it never could,

Then why do we still dare to wish,

Of the days when sound of laughs,

Ringed in ears more than

sounds of bullets,

And the sky, it

rains red tonight,

Souls, broken

some dead.

A few more years,

and you'll be able to see,

A world where

No one will be left

to grieve,

or left

to leave...

.

~ Collaboration with the insanely talented @ambroseharte ♡ ~

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a-silent-loverr · 6 years

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♡

I wonder how a single jingle of laughter from your lips can drain my tears away

Come closer, let me taste your "I love you's" like tequilla shots. One by one. In a haste and forget the world

I've had drinks and dances with friends (or so I called) with too many souls crowded on my back

And still, have felt loneliness...in my limbs

But since, I touched your kiss. Darling, dreamless voids haven't been able to take this feeling of being complete from my heart anymore

// Is this how.... love works?! //

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a-silent-loverr · 6 years

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♡

I wished on the stars

Kept in the spaces

Between our hands

And our hearts

Followed the sea

Into the sleeves of

Fingers running

Memories along

Grass & look at

The flashes

Blooming alongside

The untrodden path

We dared to venture in

I remember, going back

Touching the rocks

Which made us fall

And still I pray to skin

That bends at the

Lightest scent &

Vow against dulled

Concrete to reverse the turns

We slipped on, erase

The blotches of our

Blood on dust

This is how we learn

How to hold onto

Hearts - in seasons

That change our

Breath for the next

sunset

We grow, and water

Once more. Despite

the fall that brought us

Down and taught us

To wait for the sunrise

Darling, inside every palm is

A lesson I've carved

Across sleepless patches

Wishes I have

Inscribed on skin.

Is this the way I continue?

Breaking apart, healing and hoping

All above and all over

Again and Again and Again

.

♡ Written in collaboration with @teacup13 ♡

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