stack the knives and blades, with their sharp, bloodthirsty edges, into the furnace, and burn the flame high, until all of it melts and flows; then pour it in a mould of a necklace and throw in some shiny jewels; give it to the girl who told you a fortnight ago, that she's in love with you; slide it gently behind her neck and lock-it with her; then look into her eyes, and gaze into them until all of her melts and flows; lastly, turn your back on her and don't look back, at all; hear her sob, and bellow, but take the first drive you see and leave, don't ever see her again— hope is a double-edged sword; weapons could hurt you once, but false hope could kill you enough before you're finally declared dead. —zohiii
wash the gunpowder off your body and gulp down a cup of bitter coffee; put on a fine black dress and wear his favourite perfume; make him write a poem where he decorates his love for you in fancy, artsy words; let him plead, and then go to the prom with him; hold his hand, and whisper in his ear, a promise— of all the dances, and a kiss under the mistletoe; enter the hall in your sheath gown, and send him off to get a drink; kiss a guy you've slept with before and then another one in a dull tuxedo, while he stands by the table, with shards of glass around him; let them pierce his heart, and leave behind wounds; leave the party with the prom king, and don't turn back—
gunpowder could crack the walls you can see, but false hope cracks the heart, you can't. —raika
These days, I have been trying to stare at the skies without your stains in it. I guess it's time to let go of all my guilts, my pain. It's time to let my scars to heal and dry off. The callus to my soul, is tired of you painting my slits fresh all over again. Your stars disappear everytime I take a peek, and my decision to sketch them betwixt my rhymes have always gifted the worst of my nightmares. Yet I can never stop. Can I? Over the cliffs, and across the rims, they never leave my side unlike you. You might think I am happy to have at least them, by my side. But how will I ever tell you that happiness threw my hand long before you did. And unexpectedly, I never tried to search for them. Always knew they would hide, away. Far away.
The spring in my garden, stays brown and yellow. I wake up with the fragrance of autumn engulfing me throughout the day. It escapes amidst the chilly winds whispering 'death' in my ears, blooming flowers of winter I always fail to recall the name just like I forget the number of pieces my heart has been broken in. It took me two, to realize about those four pieces scrambled and puzzled inside. And the only thing I realized at the end was, once your heart breaks, the pieces keep on multiplying. They never stop, they can't.
Fine lines and the glass of wine I can't think of poetry all the way I can't write for people falling in love And I am done talking about heartbreaks. . There's a time when I will shine Into dusk and dawn and singing songs Not everything in the world meant you But not everything in the world needed to. . You don't know if life is hard Or it's just an age of up and down I don't know if its an autumn wind Or am sitting out of the edge of mind. . I hope it's just age and nothing else Brewing coffee and tossing bread Dreaming of fairy tales and fake aesthetics Ain't into dreams that are pathetic.