this person will be (kinda) missing from this place till his exams get over. on a full reading break.

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  • _rainfrost_ 1w


    HAPPY BIRTHDAY ZOHIII!!!! (I am bhery late ik, sowwy ;-;)

    So, where do we start? Umm...yeah. From our first meeting. I had met you. (I'm being completely honest, ok)

    I had read you first time when Shasha had tagged me in one of your post. And from the very first read, I had understood that you are a wonderful writer (an understatement.) I did not like the aesthetics of your acc tho (donno why, but it was my first impression) �� And then I had hosted a challenge and you came when the participation time was over, and you were sad. I chose to read your non-submission post, and I was bound to give you the wild-card entry *-*

    I came to know you more when we had collaborated on Krish's challenge. And we became friends.

    Anddddd now ik that you're the best Slytherin who's friends w me. You aren't just a wise soul, but a humble man too. You are kind. You are sweet. You are caring. You are forgiving. And it makes you soouu loveable. ❤️

    Haha tho we don't have same opinions everytime (sorry, most of the times *-*") but you help me take better decisions and build better options about things.

    There are so many things that I want to tell you. There are so many brilliant qualities you possess. There are so many things that you taught me. But let's leave it here, ok? ;)

    I just hope that your life be filled with sakuras and animes :) and that you get a job in Japan someday.

    You are special to me. Veryyyy special indeed. And this day is special too. ❤️ I had planned some things for your b'day, but some things happened so I couldn't do them. Forgive me ;-;;;

    P.S.- and I even couldn't write a poem for you ;-;;;;;; this dedication is completely random, and raw. I wrote it jaldi me, I was feeling very bad ki I'm posting it kitne der se.

    Stay happy, cute and the smug self you are! :3


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  • _rainfrost_ 1w

    This one has folklore (Taylor Swift) kinda vibes. :3

    ᴘᴀᴘᴇʀ ɪɴ ᴄᴀɴᴅʟᴇʟɪɢʜᴛ

    i'm sitting inside these four walls, soaking my mind in peace. the woodland of emotions, that has grown right within my mind is growing dense by every passing moment.

    chaos keeps clutching my life, like dust covers the attic floor, like cliches linger in poems written on crumpled papers. but right now, i blow the chaos away. for i've realised life is ephemeral. and i want to live it. i don't want to fix my every problem. i don't want my every question answered. not anymore.

    i found peace in changing things. in the wildness of a pouring rain. my life is cracking like glass, yet i pick the pieces to keep em forever and stare at em, as though they are the shards of mirror of erised. and it feels like i'm floating in a concoction of bittersweet gaiety.

    i've written thousands of letters, to my unknown lover. sitting in the candlelight of hope. and i've smelt ecstasy, in sepia papers and gold foils.

    i've felt love in the wind and dandelions, seen enigmas dance barefeet in the winter fog from my window, and heard peace sing slowly from behind the clouds alongwith a chorus of stars on a rainy night.

    i'm a lost poet, and i've perceived silence, dripping slowly inside my saltbox house. silence sounds like the letters from my unknown lover, like a great saga painted out of blanks and pauses, like flames burning an unseen art.

    and my world's been vintage. just like other poets'. i live inside my world. i die inside my world. till my dream breaks and i find myself in a tedious crowd, in the monotonous reality. just like other poets.


    #atticc #aesthetec2 #starc #silencesoundslikec #ecstasyc #bingoc #windc
    @raika alongwith the "peace" prompt you gave :3

    @writersbay Yeehaw!

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  • _rainfrost_ 1w

    ᴀ ᴘᴏᴇᴛ'ꜱ ᴘʀᴏʙʟᴇᴍꜱ

    People said poets are strange; they see colours which others don't, they say how silence sounds like. And their overthinking minds are a mess and exaggerate & complicate their own lives. But I always wondered, why a poet smiles when he sees his muse for the first time, why their eyes shine like nameless constellations when they daydream.

    I never knew until I found myself drowning in blues. A moment through misery & mystery, escaping to all the beauty I had overlooked. The feelings clattering inside the eyes of a person who's seen love, their sun-tanned faces and lips forever curved, like petals.

    I knew I was a poet, too, when I tasted happiness in the summer zephyr, when I felt the warmth of a chandelier light, when I saw solitude playing hide 'n seek in the trees.

    The world was never the same. I was never the same. One moment ago everything is beautiful, the next moment everything is haunting, just like love. Like I saw love in everything. And just like a lovestruck poet I saw pictures with cracks and bittersweetness bleeding from them, I saw ephemeral feelings come & go from my mind at night, like a rainbow coloured merry-go-round.

    The way a child savours his frozen lemon ice-cream. It melts on his tongue and he tastes it. Even when the ice melts away he still tastes the flavour smeared on his lips, lingering. It's same with happiness.

    The way empty liquor bottles float in a pool. Shimmering glass with no label "addictive" stuck on it. Carrying the secrets and intoxication of a drinker's mind. That's same with sad proses and songs.

    Nothing hides from a poet's eyes. And that's the thing wrong with poets. They are a mosaic of blessings and curses.

    And I want to live in the beautiful side of world. Lie on the moss green grounds and feel the light on my eyelids. Watch the butterflies sing summer folklores. See the sun go down and witness the lakes become a pool of honey.

    I want to stare at the carefree clouds disappear slowly from an orange-blue sky, before I close my eyes forever.


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  • _rainfrost_ 3w

    So.. I know it wasn't planned, but yeah here's As(h)tray-II. For those who haven't read my previous post, it'd be better if you read the previous one before reading this, but still it's alright even if you don't.

    ᴏꜰ ᴡʜɪᴛᴇ ʟɪᴇꜱ & ꜱɴᴏᴡ ᴡᴏᴏᴅꜱ

    I'm leaving this town, trailing my footprints on the snow, like memories easy to forget, like moments which fade under mizzling snow. 'Cause right now I'm reckless, I don't care if I go astray. These woods would take me to where I belong, to nowhere.

    As the ivory snow covers the ground, like white-lies settle down on my city of life, I choose to stare up at the grey, sunless sky. These aspen trees stand on the snow, a little pale against the winter landscape, with trunks wearing black strokes as of a Japanese painting.

    I search for happiness, in the cadence of winds looking for home, in the soggy laurels dying alone. I let the bittersweet hallelujah sink in my cold skin.

    I feel the pain I carried all the way from my hometown paint scars on my shoulders, and all I want to do is throw it off a cliffside. I feel the scent of the snow numb my nose.
    I feel like I don't want to feel anything at all, so all I want to do is drown in a chambré river of rosé.

    The way November promised me of heaths of wisteria blooms, and gave me a vandalizing snowstorm, shattered the rest of my hope. I should've known winter's a hoax, like a picture of moon in the mirror on a new moon night, like a flicker of love in my lover's eyes.

    Maybe I'll wander in the unknown for a while, for my lifeless town of life never felt like home. I'll wait for summer to bring me back a blissful song, till then I'll be astray under cloudy storms singing sad tunes.


    @zohiii @_aradhya
    You people inspired me to write this. ��

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  • _rainfrost_ 3w


    The sun sank before my eyes. I watched the October sunset dwindle till the sky was too wet in ink-blue and darkness dripped over the whole landscape. These hours felt like years, and the sky wearing a different hue each time, were warped seasons. Now, there's just silence around, a kind of strange intoxication within it. The weeds have grown right through the ground like questions, and the houses are broken like trust and promises.

    I turn off the lights and leave my home at ten, for no good reason in my mind. I take out a cigarette and light it up. I walk past broken, abandoned houses which once used to belong to the people I love (and some to poems, whom I don't feel now). This town has been lonely ever since autumn came and love began to fade from the sky. So I put a "closed" sign on the main artery. Even the marquee carved with the town's name "Life" is all lost under thick layers of soot.

    As the cigrette smoke makes my vision blurry, it slithers up the air, like a harbor-grey snake and disappears into nothingness. This jagged silence, and the sound of my hollow footsteps on cobblestones, make me feel astray tonight.

    Half of my life I spent chasing happiness, and locking it up inside my chest. Every other day it was gone, and I woke up with hands cold and numb. Happiness has been my favourite book, with sepia pages and every secret printed on it, but lies in a room with a permanent darkness hanging around.

    Now that I've lost it again, I feel frostbitten. The ink of my pen is frozen again. Those broken homes packed with cold air, haunt me every night.

    But what if life was never meant to 'seek'? What if we just try to put a name, a reason to our every feeling so that we don't fade in time? What if we always want people to stay in the town of our life, because we want a witness of our story and art?

    "�������������� �������� ��������, ������ ������ �������� ���������� ���������� ��������...������ �������� ������ ������������ ���������������� ���������� �������� �������� �������� ���� ������������������, ������'�� �������� ������������....."

    I'll be waiting for me to realise that words can never describe true emotions, just like other poets do. I'll write my last poem on a fallen maple leaf, so I easily fade in time, just like this city.

    Till then, I'll be astray, in forsaken streets and forgotten dates.


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  • _rainfrost_ 4w

    ᴄʜᴀᴍʙᴇʀ ᴏꜰ ꜱᴇᴄʀᴇᴛꜱ

    3rd September, 3:30 a.m.

    I tiptoed down the midnight stairs, when my garden frangipanis were drinking moonlight. He traced me with his amber green eyes, standing in his blue jeans. Wearing a trinket around his neck, he said I look so unholy as sin. He made his confessions, gave me his crown and took me on his front carseat.
    The headlights were crushing 3 a.m. darkness and trafficlights were screaming red. But who cares when you're out for a Roman Holiday?

    I was his secret. I danced in his hometown beneath limelights of smoke. Every night, he used to bring me sunrise, but he didn't know that I was taming clouds under his roof. And that's the beauty of the secret you aren't supposed to keep.

    3rd December, 3:30 p.m.

    I was wandering around the cobblestone streets, with his invisible crown placed nearly on my head. The air was greyish-white with the fog I exhaled. Suddenly someone walked into me, and my crown fell & broke. His coat cinnamon brown and eyes German blue. He looked so pretty, and I knew he'd be my regret and haunting ghost. I chased him and kissed him. And I knew he'd keep me warm till the winter ends and I'm just ashes of some unfaithful love.

    He was my liquor sweet fear, and for him I got drunk on liquor-like lies. My lover came home and I told him he's the one I love. While at night I tried to press a knife through the leather cover and sheets of my diary, but it wasn't a horcrux.

    11th January, 11:11 p.m.

    I stole my lover's car-keys and drove away so fast, for it was just a Roman Holiday and some invitation to my haunting pasts. They both couldn't keep this hurricane and now they're drowning in the storm. And I'm flying through this midnight darkness, when the traffic lights are screaming red.

    I walked through my garden gate, and my frangipanis are dying under moonlight.

    11th March, 11:11 a.m.

    I tiptoed down the sunlit stairs. Someone had come to meet me in the lawn.


    Title credit: Harry Potter & the Chamber of Secrets (by J.K. Rowling)

    P.s.- This is what happens when you mix Badlands (by Halsey), Getaway car (by Taylor Swift) and Harry Potter. *-*

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  • _rainfrost_ 4w


    Last summer, I kissed Lily. It was twenty-fifth of June; the sky drunk in pink afterglow and her honey-coloured hair dancing in the salt air. She was standing in a cardamon green dress with wine-stained lips. Her curiously hazel eyes looked through mine, as though she could see my soul, a mosaic of black, green and some cracked yellow. And she promised to stay with me forever.

    That was a warm evening of summer, but today is the last week of monsoon. I'm sitting alone inside my room. The rain comes and washes the dust off the window glass, but the clouds still add a waxy grey in the clear vision; to say, a mixture of certainty and uncertainty. It's been a month since Lily talked to me. Friends say she left because the money I had wasn't enough for her to spend, and that's why she went to that Eric.

    Eric lives in a big mansion. Probably, the money he shows off is all his father's fortune. They say he had enough dollars to fill his love's life with sparkling dresses and champagne. Anyway, wasn't my love enough? I know her, she won't leave me for money. Never. But I felt insecure too sometimes, was she fake?... For both of us knew well how to play games.

    I was half-lost in my worries, when Joe called. He sounded rather shaky. I completely forgot what I was thinking a moment earlier.
    "Er--Eric's car crashed near the closed highway. Lily--she was with him too. And the car took fire after the accident." He exhaled sharply after finishing the sentence, as though he was holding his breath for a while.
    I felt numb, or even better, bloodless. It was like all my thoughts and feelings were drained out. I wasn't ready...
    "And--and the police have found just a girl's badly damaged body, they couldn't find Eric's." He said. "What do you think? Uh--did he ever show signs like he--he wanted her off his life?"
    "No... I'm going to meet Lily."
    "You crazy!"

    I cut the call, took my car keys and drove. The chilling winds of rainy night were piercing through my skin. The road was dead empty. I reached the closed highway. Ahead I saw the burnt car, which appeared like a ghostly silhouette in the moonlight. I swerved to the lane on the right instead; it was a shortcut to Lily's house, she once had shown me.

    I reached her lonesome saltbox house. The door was open. The lights were off, and the place had the same perfume that Lily often used. I felt nostalgic. I climbed up the stairs, to see a man lying peacefully on the floor, his face turned sidewards. He wore a white rayon shirt, chest drenched in sanguine red. A bunch of lilies was resting upon his lifeless body. On the sofa, sat a girl with honey-coloured hair and hazel eyes. She smiled at me. I smiled at her too, before I went to kiss her.


    @_aradhya This is inspired from your short-story which was inspired from me. :3

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  • _rainfrost_ 5w

    Not a fiction. ;)

    �������� ������������������

    Some days, I've admired clouds from a distance, sitting on my rooftop while the water kept clutching the threads of my cardigan. Some days, I've been a cloud among the cotton balls hung high in the sky, drenched in grey water, where we all rant and cry like a waning orchestra.

    Forever I've wondered why was I the saddest shade of blue I've ever seen. I hated myself for it. All the shoutings in the classroom, whispers and laughs; I've been a clumsy clown for them, and I knew they'd never see behind that blood-painted smile on my face. Every moment stroked a tinge of purple over my swirling hurricane of questions, and all I had become was a blur in the mirror.

    For all the times I trusted the fakes, I kept on sippin them like phials with different-flavoured poisons, and ended up thinking at night why I feel so sick.

    But something happened one magical day. My city had sunk under the ocean of my tears, and I saw myself. My reflection, deeper than the heart of Atlantic; then I realised who I was, an golden eulogy wrapped in midnight blue. Sky warmly drenched in afterglow, and my scars and stitches healing, all fading into a skin now sparkling sapphire.

    I've walked through pain and uncertainty, and learnt to love myself. And that's all you need to do. That's all you have to do to know your worth. If you want to live, you have to die and reborn as a silver daffodil.

    People still think twice before falling for me, for they're afraid they'll drown in my ocean. But what if I tell you my ocean's just trenches of complications burning with blue flames. If I love myself, doesn't mean I can't love anyone else. And you don't need to tame my fire, just a little trust would do.


    Been listening to Brightest Blue album again and again these days. :3

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  • _rainfrost_ 5w

    Happyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy Birthdayyyyyy to the cutest & most cheerful person on mirakee!!


    You know your presence on this paradise is reallllllyyyyy heartwarming. Andddd you're not just adorable but super talented! Ah yes, you're fantastic is poetry ofc, but your sketches! ;-;;; You're an amazinggggg artist toooo!!

    Have a veryyy sweet and enchanted year ahead!!! ��

    I will miss you souuuuuu much. Soo pleaseeeeeee come back soon (༎ຶ ෴ ༎ຶ)

    Anddd I'm sorry for being a bit late, I was preparing for my exams ^^" and I didn't have much time so also for this dedication post which is literally filled with anything *-*""

    Anyways enjoy your day, and don't forget me to give a slice from your cake ��

    P.s.- Alsooo A VERY HAPPY BIRTHDAY FROM @_aradhya (her exams are going on so she couldn't dedicate a post to you :()

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  • _rainfrost_ 6w

    Writing after quite a long time. Had a serious blockage in my writer heart (don't gape at me, notice the metaphor.) So here's a piece I've written in a story prose-like style in which I've poured some virtues that I've learnt (not from my experience but) from my overthinking. Hope you'll enjoy it till I check all the leftover submissions in my free time. :3

    THANK YOU @writersnetwork & @mirakee !! Just speechless and too happy at the moment. :)

    ������������ ������ ����������������, �������������� �������� ������.

    You used to live in an old apartment with all the windows broken. Streetlights used to peek inside your lonely dark room to find you breathing melancholy and your cold aura kept all your friends far from you. In a cigarette shop near the station, you met a guy who had a smile like young cornflowers and a velvety voice. You came straight back home and found your heart missing from your chest. Next day you kissed him and took him home with you. That little apartment of yours was no longer a hullabaloo of darkness and ivies, but bushes of wild cornflowers instead. He loved you till your bruises were gone. But his love was like smoking cigarette in summer, burning you inch to inch, till your heart was just fluttering ashes. And he left you in the morning, burying you gingerly in a grey, raining cloud, with no words of console.

    I know you miss him, because his love, even though ephemeral, was the prettiest moment of your life. And that's the thing about beautiful things; they seem precious as they end. Imagine if hurricanes never existed, would you still look for peaceful nights?

    �������������� ������'�� ������ ������, ����'�� ������ ���������� ������������������ ������ ������.

    The whole next week you cursed yourself for letting a stranger steal your heart. And you feel stone-hearted like never before, for when it started beating the very first time, it broke into brittle pieces. You keep rounding that cigarette shop every evening that always remains closed now, as though looking for clues at a crime scene. You sit alone on a bench, watching the empty metroes pass by, feeling lonely as ever. You feel like sadness is your home now, and you go outside to clean those dead cornflowers, whose petals have dwindled from cerulean blue to ashen grey. Again, each night that streetlight clambers into your bedroom to find you sobbing; you're too afraid to be happy now, 'cause you feel if you love again, you'll break even more now, so what's the meaning of being fine again?

    The thing you didn't see is sadness was never your home, it was the hurricane that wrecked your home. And hurricanes do last; maybe you can't see behind the clouds, but the greys will fade soon. Till then, look for warmth in yourself. The day you'll forgive him you'll find the clouds running dry, your pieces of heart lifting up to fasten into one. (But remember everytime your heart joins again, it's never the same way. Maybe this time it'll be stronger and persistent. You never know until you fall in love again.)

    �������������� ����������.

    Your ashen heart has curled back into an ivory flower, and you watched it bloom like a greek folktale. You had to shed almost every piece of older you, so you can paint yourself in a milder yet fierce shade of demure blue. Now you've forgiven your lover, not because he was right, but because you deserve peace. You've realised that fake loves are charming but ephemeral while true love's a diamond coated in leaden grey. For all the pain you suffered to heal, all the blood you bled for scars to disappear, you don't care. Now all you know is there's a blue sky, and when the storm'll place its feet in your city again, you're not gonna blame yourself and cry.

    Healing hurts, doesn't it? But curiously, it's only after you're fine that you realise how much you needed to be broken.


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