grateful06

Red skies and black sea

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  • grateful06 1w

    I have questions to ask and no one to answer
    Trapped in the woods
    Between stomped sunflowers.
    A knife in my back pocket
    And love for an hour,
    I will lose my mind
    And Stitch my wounds
    To look like a fairytale
    And the lavender that bloomed.
    Wandering under the sun
    Outrunning the dark
    One wish I want to live young
    Transitioning my broken heart.

    ©grateful06

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  • grateful06 1w

    I wrote to you some months back, I don't remember precisely But I guess it's 8 months 3 days and I am still waiting.
    Take your time, I am much used to this longing
    I don't remember when was the last time I stopped waiting.

    Are you intrigued to know that last month I got beaten up, and my eyes swelled up, for the things I didn't do?
    Probably I should start talking. mind you, I am still waiting.

    Call it what you want, my quest for you or loneliness in the queue.
    Intrigued to know where I live?
    Under the red skies near the black sea.

    And I guess I am blinded to know this longing is vast than a sea;
    What you deserve is, more than me.

    Some Days I outrun my patience
    Those days I colour my self with red
    With this, my skies turn grey
    2 days and no tears left to shed.

    Whom I am telling this?
    To nobody because they are listening.
    Mind you,
    I am still waiting.

    ©grateful06

    @mirakee
    @writersnetwork

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    Address: where is the end of waiting?

  • grateful06 1w

    We learn things with time, and one thing I am constantly learning but not accepting is that I cannot be the ocean in everyone's life I can be the bystander, but the word itself feels very turmoil to me.
    For years I belittle this word so much that now it disgusts me. When I have my own bystander in life the idea of me being someone's bystanders disgusts me and this makes me an ironic thinker whose own mind is not evident nor the writing.

    It's a flaw in me that, I cannot stand to be dispensable to someone because that makes me feel I am not enough, And that's why I am a bystander.
    The fervour of priority and usefulness has always been craving for me. The constant efforts to be useful to people make me feel good about me that gives a sense that I can wash my sins, this thought sounds selfish because it is. And I am okay to admit it as this post is all about my flaws and accepting them.

    The foremost thought that I can't see someone going through the same misery as I did, triggers the sense of comfort in me that it comes naturally To be honest.
    And now this doesn't make me a superhuman in their life I am just another human, who gave shoulder when needed.
    I can not be needed constantly is set as an alarm on my phone.

    I feel nothing while I am admitting this because I let it out when I ultimately accepted it and now I can work on the road of headway handily.
    And the first step will be, being an ocean for myself.

    ©grateful06

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    Now I can sleep at night.

  • grateful06 1w

    Somewhere far I will go.

    At the rush hour of my anxiety
    I will leave on a sleepless night.
    Taking a new road, near the snow
    Somewhere far
    I will go.

    Like the dull star in the dark sky
    I will flee with every night
    Maybe on some sterile land, I will grow
    Alone under the sun;
    But somewhere far I will go.

    Between the woods- I traverse;
    The Ocean - I survived
    On the way seeds,- I sow
    On the sunrise
    Somewhere far I will go

    Near the wishing fountain,- I pray
    And I don't have a coin
    My hands joint - I say,
    Stop me nowhere
    Withdraw my shadow
    On my tree near the snow
    I will sleep now,
    On the sunrise;
    Somewhere far I will go.

    ©grateful06


    @writersnetwork
    @mirakee

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  • grateful06 2w

    #questions

    I love you. (Too late)

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    What if the only way of love he knew was materialistic?
    What if he only knew how to express anger? perhaps nobody allowed him to cry.

    What if he was scared to be seen as weak? Because conceivably he has been taught that tough is synonymous to masculinity.

    What if the only time he was loved is when he earned?
    What if the only time he was hugged by his dad was never.

    What if he doesn't know affection at all?
    Then I am gratifyingly happy to see that he strived in his broken ways to love me, through materials or anger
    Sometimes being distant and sometimes talking.

    I never ran out of needs and he never failed to fulfil it.

    We as a family often ran of happiness formerly, but I guess that was fine.
    Now we ran out of him. I forgot the hug and he was tired.
    He never told me, I noticed his eyes when it was too late.
    And I guess patriarchy killed both of them before life did.

    ©grateful06

  • grateful06 2w

    Fall.

    And Fall lets hope you will end tonight
    You and I love-hate;
    Spring and I will reignite
    6 months until monsoon
    But we won't waste time in goodbye.

    I will write letters to you with soft bones and withered heart.
    You are not least loved;
    You are just too beautiful for my hideous art.

    And you never know, that the lover of you
    Was me,
    I dawdle till you end
    To write a poem on your leaf.

    My epitaph, you politely keep it empty.
    Lay your warmth on me like fresh grown
    Timber leaves.
    And monsoon will paint it with raindrops
    And memories of spring.

    Fall you may depart now
    It's the end of love until I,
    Feel again ----ciao

    ©grateful06

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  • grateful06 5w

    ©grateful06

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    If I get lost, will you come to find me?

  • grateful06 6w

    Empty world and few troubles to convey my part in it.

    My heart refuses to wait, I can not blame it the longing it has seen is the reason why my chest is filled with smoke and eyes with sleep.

    I woke up this morning still dreaming and now reality doesn't bother me.
    Even If Does, Nothing changes
    Few more troubles have taken off.

    I am pale Brown
    And you look like a freshly sung song
    First raindrop and an ocean wave.

    I got distant to see things clear but it's foggy ahead.
    Does it matter?

    What's the spell you taught me?
    It metaphysically works on everything but you.
    Troubles added.

    I am used to this desolation
    Tell me about you, love?
    Paradoxically it's still the same when you are with me.
    You don't have to stay in this hue, you can leave.
    Troubles added.

    Humans created emotions and experiences mould them we have a perspective which only our beliefs can change so regardless you tell me how love is beautiful, I will be indifferent to it.


    ©grateful06

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  • grateful06 6w

    Life has been in a surge after I turned 18, I didn't know that years will pass so hastily that I will be left wondering, did I even say goodbye?

    I was a loser in the wars I fought, now I know it didn't mean anything. My enemy was me and I mistook it as you.
    How words are rooted in the heart and people who said them leaves.

    I have metaphors in the poetry and hypothesis in real situations. I fear I will forget the words which utterly belongs to me and not you.

    Afternoons and Grey clouds is a combination well suited for the sorcery to make things turn.

    //Dangerously vulnerable or certainly unbearable//

    What to talk about those nights when the heart, lungs are expanding more then they should, every breath feels penalty and I keep murmuring it will all make sense one day if not today.

    My heart refuses to listen, my love, this world is empty
    Paint it in raindrops
    On the canvas during those nights when every breath feels penalty.

    ©grateful06

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  • grateful06 6w

    Humans get used to things
    And suffering feels mundane life.

    The year is about to end and plentiful things are still on hold. Seems like nothing has changed in massive content.

    Tragically I was missing Rain like every year and to my awe, today it rained in December, I am startled because the universe listening to me are rare happenings.
    I am thankful though, I will have a good sleep in this rush hour of rain.

    Walking down the pavement, The flowers which I love grew in crevices of the road are withered now.
    They scent like you, I wonder in how many things I have kept you, that now even walking reminds me of you.

    Remember when you asked for a promise, I have been a fool.
    Promises in my reckless hands are like rains in December.

    Wishing this moment will last forever, but everything dies
    If I dive too deep, tell me not to, breathless moments often are the reason for the death.

    It's a total eclipse of reverence between you and me and
    we are on the periphery of the problem we will be crashing tonight.

    I will be saving a few tears for a what-if, we crossroads again.



    ©grateful06

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