When I was broken My soul was smashed heart was fragmented into hundred one pieces by some untruths by some crushed cum ruptured dreams by some concocted own expectations I got hurt by those ghastly bruises by those lesions black coloured wilted stains on the backbone of mine those cuts inside the so-called heart terrific blemishes inside the pneuma, And I was not "me"
And then She came into my life as an elegant angel I was lost in myself, but she found me from me She cleansed those scars by some tumeric salves Replenished a fresh spirit Refilled some palpable fantasies in my stray heart Unburdened those cargos from the horrid pneuma and taught me to love myself more and more I douched in the fragrance of her verses Her enchanting tunes of love made me alive again.
But who was she ? I think //in the world of monsters, she was not only an angel but also a goddess for me//
But still dear, I am not able to define her and still they are asking me "Who was she ?"
What is love ? According to someone "Love is a very strong feeling of affection towards someone who you are romantically or sexually attracted to."
So basing on this, I can divide the LOVE into three categories i.e. love in poor family ,love in middle class family and love in rich family.
Love in a poor family :- Those one who don't have bread to eat, where will they get time to think about love and dream about a pretty face of his/her love partner. //they don't know about love and age, only that monstrous "belly" matters for them//
Love in a middle class family :- They want to study, want to dream, want to fall in love, want to do a good job for the family,wany to fulfill the wishes of parents and again want to marry the love partner. But darling, how can you get so many dreams all together ? So dreams break in a stygian hour of night. Love hurts, soul clamours. "Break up" comes when the family responsibilities comes to mind. //age really matters here dear//
Love in a rich family :- Someone said "The rich don't work for money. They have money to work for them." They have money to fulfill their dreams. As they have already silver bowl and golden spoon, they don't have that responsibilities to earn money and to sweat in a long day. They have time to love and live and to choose partner. //here I think, age doesn't matter//
I want to unfasten that egress of love. Want to fly in that azure lofty sky no one should clutch me with their forepaws. Want to be like those poetries of Sylvia Plath and to live forever in your dainty heart with evergreen pretty lexicons. Want to glisten like that orb which will dazzle every night & will mesmerize you. Want to be like those metaphors of "The Sun Rising" which will abut your shrinking soul in a while. But don't want to be like that floret which will bloom only for a day and a night And I don't want to die like that darling !!
Your lies like those bruises bring tears sometimes bloodstains in my eyes But I can't bind those vehemances. those tears tumble from eyes My cheeks want to drain them but the heart glimpses for a while & endorses that those are the bloodstains not water drops But my lips guzzle them and enfold a veil on my face And I seal those sentiments through my lips But darling, I'm not Rihanna I don't like the way you lie And sorry I hate you now...
Crippled pneuma screams in a privy sometimes on the pillows But everytime on the diary of her those lexicons consoles her On the leaflets of poetries, she solaces her infirm soul. But a mask she wears on her face looks so alluring as that veil which always twinkles & shines But behind that her silence shrieks loudly but no one can hearken to that tranquility Those quietude hammers on her gammy lame heart But that vizard engulfs that yelling over her stillness as always...
This is a repost from several months ago. Reflecting today on the word strength, I just cannot help but think of my twin sister. Today she is cancer free, but has had some major complications that make it hard to even celebrate that. Her spirits are low, and it makes my heart ache. I know she gets tired of being strong. But, she is strong. Just as today's polar bears face insurmountable odds, more than was ever designed, she presses on. And it's such a beautiful thing.