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  • kir_tiiii 14w

    in the absence of anarchy
    you, are my only poison.

    I have you neat, in short raw sips
    then all at once,
    like a moth drinks flame
    and as you stride down my throat
    a certain part of me, that I've very little regard for
    knows I would rather be burnt.

    You taste of chaos,
    and everytime you grunt love and I hear lust
    I remember everything that love never was.

    There's greed in your touch
    and beneath you,
    I know you'll leave me in ruins
    and the moans that escape my lips
    quickly escalate from ecstasy to fright

    I don't say much. You don't hear at all.
    We, or rather you, go onon
    and I admire the resplendence of ruin.

    Once you are done,
    upon the remains of me
    dawn births the anarchy that reigns over my soul.

    Haphazardly, you leave.
    Love leaves with you while the morning air stifles with grim lust.
    and I am reminded of the crusader
    who claimed to preach and aimed to ruin.

    Nevertheless, I let you in again the next evening
    and over the compromised territories of my bare skin
    you break me down all over again.
    My sanctity pays the price.

    ©kir_tiii | love during curfew nights

  • kir_tiiii 15w

    #astemporaryashappiness ; I'll definitely delete this later :-)

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    in the middle of nowhere
    words fill up for the cigarettes you never smoked
    leaving your lungs charred

    crimson ink becomes your diclofenac
    and your words; your only salvation

    you pick on your own wounds for inspiration
    and lack of pain puts you into withdrawal

    suddenly, you're no longer you
    you now, are a connoisseur of pain;
    a wanderer, a kafir
    and above all, a poet.


  • kir_tiiii 15w

    @iamsleepy thank you so much for reminding me to write, this one is very very vague, and utterly rusty, but i wrote this for you. Thank you!

    @writersnetwork #writersnetwork

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    The way I love you,
    it breaks my heart at times.

    How one moment all I want,
    all I need, and all I would have, is you
    and how the next minute
    my drowning heart would swim
    across the Pacific, a thousand times over
    to have you out of sight.

    You never leave.
    I have never seen the Pacific. Not even in stills.

    And with every bout of love,
    darkness overwhelms my eyes.

    ©kir_tiii | love is blind

  • kir_tiiii 16w


    He's a flawed religion

    And I'm his one of his many fanatics

    He preaches that desire is doomed to be mistaken for affection
    and says that my skin smells of love.

    The italics on my bottle of cologne spell 'L-U-S-T'

    ©kir_tiii | you lust for love

  • kir_tiiii 16w

    @sereiin @halcyonn thank you for reminding me to write, much love ♥

    @mirakee @writersnetwork #mirakee #writersnetwork #pod

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    Not all poets are broken hearts.
    Some are cadavers;
    of dead hopes and murdered dreams
    buried in the pits of hazy illusions and blind love.

    Not all poets are broken hearts.
    Some have loved more and lived less.
    Many have breathed in
    unlikely stories of betrayal and compassion.
    Most are destitutes scrounging for love in the trash of lust and longing.

    ©kir_tiii | do you write poems?

  • kir_tiiii 17w

    vague alert!

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    my crimson ends find salvation in your endless whites
    beds creek, sheet crease
    and the night grows blind enough to see light,
    you caress my bones,
    crimson floats atop and while settles beneath

    the artist in you resists the ecstasy of the birth of a colour
    and the hopeless heart in me aches for your content

    I let love be, you let art take over
    and as white touches crimson
    the sky rises to dawn

    I lie bereft of sight and colour,
    you whisper "the sky is pink"

    ©kir_tiii | red lips and white shirts

  • kir_tiiii 17w

    Jaha bhi hai tu khush toh hai na?
    Jaha bhi rahe khush hi rehna
    - Khush Toh Hai Na | Osho Jain

    #readwriteunite #mirakee #writersnetwork #pod
    @mirakee @writersnetwork

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    • The thought of you sets in like monday blues in the last hours of a Sunday spent in ode of a life held in abeyance.
    I wonder , worry, look forward to, and hate you, all at once. And just like a Monday, I submit myself to you. You slog me down all week, and when you're not ravening anymore, you call it a break.
    The world calls it weekend, I know it's just you enjoying the bliss of having something to your fill.

    • The other day I saw you on the metro back home. You were standing right in front of the door, like always. And I, clenching on to my cowardly heart slipped into the farthest possible corner. Darwaze daeyi taraf khule,
    the doors opened to the right, and once again my heart got left-swiped.

    • I often listen to the Spotify playlists I stole from you. Your playlists are as nonchalant as you are and their names as unlikely as mine.
    From your playlists, I have gathered that Coke Studio makes more sense to you than a rustic Himachali folk piece that hasn't been meddled with yet. I wonder if you've always appreciated fusion over folk or that some commonplace Pahari song isn't sophisticated enough for you.

    • I once had your initials tattooed to the nape of my neck. Now that you're gone, and lovesick tattoos aren't in vogue anymore, I got it covered with a rose. Everytime I lie down, it pricks my skin. I don't remember asking the tattooist for thorns, but then again, I never sought heartbreak.
    And yet I had you.

    ©kir_tiii | thorn-kissed

  • kir_tiiii 17w


    I often wonder how the little space
    between your side of the bed and mine
    seems like a blackhole of incomprehensible miles

    and how,
    inspite of the continents between us
    he is always just a heartbeat away

    I wonder how on certain nights
    I search for you in your arms in vain
    and how I can still sense his warmth
    in the T-shirt he left me

    I would how the mere thought of him
    brings me to life
    and how beautifully I wither beneath your finger tips

    ©kir_tiii | the drug called distance

  • kir_tiiii 18w

    it's good to be home!

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    They said true love burns like fire
    and i hoped his icy indifference would salve my charred insides.

    An year ago,
    he left.

    And I lost my heart to frostbite.

    ©kir_tiii | heatstroke in Alaska