@_rainfrost_ thank you so much for this beautiful challenge, Potterhead. ♡
I'm standing on the shore, with my forehead burning with the light of eclipsing sun. And the tides which are emptying sand beneath my feet, are making me realise how everything affects everything. Time is relative, and so are feelings, eventually they slip away like an evanescing dream, leaving us wanting more.
A soft breeze catches me off guard and all my thoughts scatter, just like that. I wonder if the sky ever tried collecting back its stars but let go, for it realised there's more beauty in growing apart than to hold on to something and keep it from shining. I lay down on the caramel sand, this time without worrying about my favourite sundress or my messy hair. As the waves hit my feet rhythmically, I can't help but think about the song that I always skipped but couldn't ever delete. Our hearts hold onto things that are meant to be temporary; choking them, which in turn suffocate our dreams. Do we ever learn?
The sand that somehow ended up in my fists seemed to be struggling and the tighter my grip became, the more it slipped away, so I freed myself; from digging into my own skin. And believe me, the feeling was refreshing.
It was soothing to watch the clouds play hide and seek, while the wind and waves danced coyly to each other's symphony. Even the ether blushed a deep crimson at nature's alluring chicanery. Or was it just an innocent serendipity? Either way, the feeling was ethereal and the urge to capture the moment in my parched polaroid was overwhelming. I keep it in my scrapbook, intending to stick it later, and scribbled some words beside it;
"Waves of past embrace me like a rose; yet all I can feel are the rancorous thorns, maybe someday they'll fade away too and I'll find my abode."
We humans are bound by the chains of memories and feelings, and though the key is just within a hand's reach, we are too afraid to set ourselves free. Maybe it's stockholm syndrome that we have entangled ourselves in.
It's a beautiful sight and the more I look at the vast sky, the more depth I keep finding. I lay there for another minute; one that feels like an eternity, hoping to find a meaning of our existence, it's just in vain.
So I decide to let go of my worries and let the wind caress me, even if it's just for a moment. - Sakshi
Idk if it makes sense. You may skip :) _______________________________________________
They say that when we look at the stars, we are in a way peeping into the past. The journey their light started millions of years ago, reaches our eyes today, so does that mean they don't shine anymore? Would you find the twinkling lights any less brighter after knowing that their glow is an old one?
We humans have a tendency to leave things in the middle when they don't go our way. Just because it's dark and the sun is covered in fog doesn't mean it does not exist. All you have to do is wait till the sunrise, so you can see things in a better light, but that's the part where many give up; for it's hard to endure the silence on a moonless night when even the stars seem to be lost and can't find their way to sing you a soothing lullaby. And if you can get through it alive, there's nothing you can't survive. It is said that time never stops for anyone, it actually does give you many chances. But if you are always in a torpid state, all it can do is continue its voyage, for someone who doesn't want to be; can't be helped.
So whenever you feel like giving up, think about the stars, filled with love, that twinkle and every night, longing to see you smile. -Sakshi.
When the effulgent sun smiles at your groggy mornings, isn't it the nature's way of nudging you to wake up from the deep melancholic slumber? I write poetries about rainbows and sunshine, when in reality all I've endured is trauma and misery, and that is the reason I try spreading happiness, for if not me; let someone else experience its tenderness. The teardrops on my pages are a reminder of the ferocious rages, that I felt that at a very young age. And so I write my songs, hoping to heal, if not many; at least one being.
Phoenix is the metaphor for my soul, for the fire within me burns with the same intensity. Stones and venom spells aimed at me melt like the rain in my vicinage. So even when my wings are tattered and my heart is tired, I rise from the ashes of my destruction and fly above them all; only to be stared in awe, by the same ones who adorned my coffin with flaws and scars.
Scars that might be dull, but still have atoms of the brightest star. So I smile, anytime I see another stone aimed at me, for I know my core is strong one. - Sakshi.
Thank you so much guys. ♡ I tried reaching your level, but ik I'm no where near. (You can skip if you want, I just wanted to give credit where it's due ;)
I know you said love is neither right nor wrong, love is love. But sometimes love makes you do things, things that are wrong and no matter how much you try, they can't be justified.
I still remember the day he promised me forever, but I did not know then, that forever was a journey that would end at your feet, and start anew, leaving me behind. He still says he loves me, but he can't look in my eyes, for I know there's some guilt inside. But that isn't enough to ease my pain, is it?
I blamed you, both of you, but I blamed myself the most, for it made me question myself everyday. Where did I go wrong? It haunts my every single nightmare, where you both mock my despair. I tried being strong, but I broke down again when I heard you humming "our" song, and I wondered then, "Can love be shared?" I tried erasing your scent from his shirt, but what about the one that resides in his heart, how can I erase something that reeks of eternity.
Tell me, does your voice calm him? Cause mine is being choked by shadows unknown. Does he let you sleep on the right side of the bed, now that he loves you? Do you make him lilac paper planes the way I used to? Do you write him love songs too? Do you both laugh at the same lame joke I shared with him on a silly night? Does your song lull him to sleep too? Tell me, when he shares his guilt with you, does he tell you about my sorrow too?
When he smiles at me, all I can see is your reflection in his eyes, that screams in agony to be freed. When he kisses me, all I can taste is the chocolate tart, the one I remember being so much adored at your house warming party. In every part of him, resides an atom of yours and I cannot unsee anymore.
He seems too lost in his world that's torn between guilt and love, that he doesn't even notice how I'm fading away; slowly but in misery, into nothingness. He doesn't seem to notice that I no longer wear the emerald chain he gifted me, for now I know, how easily stones can be replaced by diamonds. He doesn't seem to notice that the same smile he created is getting destroyed by his very being. He doesn't notice and I try to be ignorant, for ignorance is a bliss right? But sometimes it's a curse that annihilates each and every single one of your dreams. Tell me how should I feel?
My hate is replaced by indifference, they say I'm healing, but numbness is still a feeling.
You both found love in each other, but in the process, you destroyed an innocent soul, one that is scarred for life and won't ever feel enough.
The key to happiness, is just one hope away; it's in the blue sundress, in which, elegantly you sway, to the rhythm of your heartbeat; a celestial prism, made of stardust; concrete.
The way moon follows your path everynight, just like the red balloon, you let out of sight; when you were seven, now it haunts you constantly, let's hope it reached heaven, and shines there too; brightly.
The key to happiness, can be found within, you know the address; just let go of the deep buried sin, let the emotions flow; it'll make you stronger, so you can see the glow, of the hidden rainbow; just a few miles yonder. -Sakshi
Maybe she and me will meet one day when sunlight will struggle to peak in and fall on our faces. One night when moonlight will struggle not to reach us and make our tears glisten like pearls. One dusk when lilac clouds won't make us smile but reveal the answers we hid behind them some time back. One dawn when it won't be the warmth those butterflies carry on their wings but the coldness of our hearts will let us sleep in peace. Maybe she's sitting in front of me and trying to figure out how am I able to think so sad about something that haven't occurred yet. Maybe I'll give her answers soon. Before it's late to mug them up for days or months or years to come. Before it's late to flip the pages of a chapter furiously, that will be left incomplete as the previous ones. I wish we never meet. Never ever. ‘What do you have in your heart?' I asked her. I wish she'd have said ‘Nothing’ instead of saying it all. Ofcourse I know she was about to say nothing just before she looked at me and saw something similar like her. The curiosity to know her. All I want from them is that they should never ask her if she doesn't have a heart that beats for love. They just won't be able to take it that she has one and it's suffocating since years. Won't blame them. Even you won't feel so looking at her like me. What she said reminded me that I often end up hearing things I'm afraid to hear. She comes to me and wishes upon me with a sad smile. He comes to me and wishes upon me with his bright smile. I wish I was a writer who could write a love story based on two contradictory wishes. Sometimes when you make someone cry, a part of you smiles to know you are able to make them cry cause once you made them smile. There's always a part of you that wants something different than what the whole of you wants. It just stays inside you until one day it starts conquering you. Until you are forced to take it out. Their parts stay together but just never try to converse. One of them or for that matter both are supposed to get hurt once they do. There's a knock. It was supposed to be at the door but it is at her heart. She gets up still looking at me turns around and goes out where he's waiting for her. Before going she looked at me once as if asking for a permission. Today, tomorrow and for many more months, I'll curse myself for letting her go. I love how they ask each other for a hand to hold and then run with the flow of wind till one of them stops to breathe in the happiness lingering in the cool air. I love them for being them. I love to see what I love happy even if I know it might approach me in a different state. I know he's holding her now. A little tighter and she'll break. Once again. It's okay. I'm here for them. I'll always be.
/We are holders of happiness, too naive to know it's the melancholy that enhances our grip over it/
She runs towards the north in a hope she'll reach the last point of south thinking he's in the east while he stands looking at the setting sun smiling at her happy being.
PS: They don't know themselves, you just can't expect me to know them. ______ I do. Maybe I do with all my heart. We'll never know if this maybe is real. I'm here. I'll always try to be. I don't hate you.
Hurt kisses you in different ways. I'm familiar with the one which kisses you and asks you to sleep it off cause your concious mind is too fragile to handle it. But you can't really sleep off hurt covered in the grief of a death. You don't realize exactly how much something means to you until a part of it is gone forever. I realized how much you mean to me when you left painful sighs in my ears. I told them it's hurting but they said it's good for you. You'll be better and those are just a few small parts and that the whole of you is still there standing tall. I said it's okay with a smile. Don't you think they should've warned me before taking you away from me? Who am I? A silent lover maybe. I didn't know my silence will cause me a loss of a life. But then again I wonder if it was loud enough to be known by everyone, would they stop? They won't. ‘I hate them’ this came out of nowhere when a part of me broke. I wasn't aware it will. I hate them for killing you. It's a murder attempt. I'm the witness. For a moment it felt like my heart just shrank cause someone took away my source of oxygen. Six years are just enough to fall in love with someone with whom you've shared smiles, tears and songs. Seeing the rain refreshing a soul and last rays of the setting sun trying to say ‘we'll meet again tomorrow at this same time' with a hug to the same, is enough to realize happiness also lies out of your soul, in the soul you're trying to find a home in. I was thinking of the idea of letting go looking at you but never thought one fine day, I'll have to let you go. You've heard me blabbering while trying to learn a poem byheart. You've heard me talking happily with friends. You've seen me smiling at nothing but something. You know how proudly I used to talk about you with anyone. You'll remember me, won't you? And me? I'm sure if not through the entire year, I'll remember you in the month of March. A month I used to wait to see you dressed in fresh layer of green. I'm sorry for I won't be able to be truly happy in the coming Marches. I'll remember you. I'll remember me around you. I'll remember us. Thankyou for everything.
A shaft of sorrow, a pang of contrition, an eternity of lostness; liberty to swim away, but regretful, of being unlearned about ways and ethics of being afloat; drowning, dying, along with the light.
Towards the shore does my raft sail, or steers to another cataract; stranded was I born, in aloofness shall I breathe last?
Broken oars, and a tarnished name, raving waters sustaining me aground; like a mariner lost, I wander; like a renowned sailor, I crash on the shore, and realise it's not the place to be, but unlike a grateful seaman, I whine while docking, because, I smell malicious storms, perhaps, I never chase them but, they harbour in me; to wreck the shores, when I'm merely few inches away from stepping on the sand.
Like the waves usher the lost ones to lands strange, even if I'm not stranded, no one but my kismet holds in her where she wavers me; to the porch of a beach house, or remnants of an abandoned ship?
But this nothingness will have its cessation, like every voyage covered in a mist of ambiguity; with spillage of blood, and tears, or with a sea trembling of the fiercest thunderstorm ever; a frail me willing to dive in her.
I've always tried to mend things which weren't broken, maybe that's why, I think, my paths have always been made of broken cobblestones. — the viscoelastic skyline, scribbles amid her timeless fortitude, and I gape at them with feet sinking in the quicksand of errs.
Endless echoes of verses about happiness have metamorphosed into macabre screechings, in my lonesome weeks, days and hours.
I held my cherry blossom petal too tightly, to protect it from the dullness and envy outside; I clasped onto it for far too long. When I exerted the pressure from my balled-up fist, pale and grey ash was the sole fortune left. A wind blew it away as well.
"Why do you gawk at the ground? Heave your head high, across, deep enough, the infinitude lays undiscovered." someone said : "someone" who collapsed in the cracks of my misery, willingly? Maybe, or perhaps I trampled over him. Isn't it sad, that cautiousness was the reason for all the catastrophes? And now, at last, when I crave to lift my damaged self up, the sky reminds me, it crashes a thunderbolt on the ground beneath; it dares to break it, that I have been wrong.
Through braids of love and longing, I bound fragments that I believed were my reasons to live. I held back when every extract of the universe implored to let go. Translucent raindrops, the crackling in a fireplace, soft murmurs on cold nights, mother's caressing pats on my head — everything; I desperately strived to bring them back, to contain them in trunks and jars. But they all wilted.
I dipped my complexion in vibrant shades of a rainbow, emptied closet of my choicest clothes and crammed them with the ones that blended an outsider in. Since the days when innocence was still an attribute, I dreamt about living like others; I constructed a personality that resembled all of theirs and none of mine; the nuance of my existence completely annihilated.
I've been trying to flood the voids, heal the cracks, and traversing miles to mend the broken road, and in retrospect, it was a ruse, a betrayal I conspired against myself. And, retribution, has a high toll.
I did what I did and regret would be a word falling short of its meaning when it comes to me — my road is a series of cracked cobblestones but I've pockets clittering with pebbles of acceptance, and slowly, I'm placing each one in the gaps, with faith. One day, I'd bask in all of the sky's hues without losing any of mine; I'd be me and I'd be dangerous.
This is not the first time that I am recording my work but yeah the first time I'm sharing it with all of you... Sorry, my voice is a bit low so I would want all of you to use headphones and increase the volume.... Please do tell me if it's good or bad and suggestions are always welcomed Link is in the bio.. Hope all of you will enjoy it..
one can write anything, i said. captured in between my fingers as i rolled the dice for the tenth time now, hoping to get the same number twice. one kept people in between phrases so one can't trace their footsteps the moment they leave, but the words still resonated amidst the holes once left when the clouds decided to drop thoughts this time. and it accumulated into mud puddles. those that weren't less than a ukulele's sound hole, echoing every stick and stone, and broken bones of strings attached to this emotion of melancholia that never seemed to drag its way against the tunes of a lullaby that used to sing myself some rest. does it still haunt you? the fears, i mean. or maybe the rain just didn't remind you that the skies cry themselves to sleep too. like stars, who were mistaken to fall when the light streaks of meteoroids swept the night awake.
The sunset feels like a brook of wine,and I am sitting on the rooftop watching the memories come back to me from the sangria skyline. Memories are nothing but the stories of past we keep telling ourselves again and again until it feels okay. Stuck between the space of happiness and forlorn. It's the story we refuse to move on from. Neatly tuck question of what was lost and you put a smile on your pale face.
I remember you and me sitting on the rooftop watching the sun go down. The salmon puff above our head melted in the sanguine sky of melancholy of what they believe is their home. I liked the way you saw the world . The grey between the black and white and how you danced to the silence the sun left behind. 365 days in a year and never a minute my heart hasn't longed for yours. A lot of me has a lot of you .
When I open my eyes every morning to the the memories you and me left behind I wish I lie down beside your warm body and sing to you a poem of how my body has longed for your fingers to intertwine in yours and caress you hair slowly and whisper a I love you underneath the silk breath of you skin. Hold your face in my hands while you smile the whole time . I don't remember the last time my heart was this happy.
If anything I know about our love , it is that you'll never fail to understand the space of happiness and sorrows in the poems I read to you. For I know you'll gently mold yourself in the metaphors of forevers and ride me to the stars. Although you hate being all the cliché I pen down I know you'll always be my knight in shining armour on the days I am a damsel in distress.
But on the days I am a little drunk over the summer sky with the silence of you not being besides I hope you know you are still the metaphors I used to our numbered days of joy and happiness.