meghana27

www.mirakee.com/meghana27

I need a gangsta to love me better.

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  • meghana27 5d

    Ugh, get over yourself already. You are a disappointment and you always will be.

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    C R E S T F A L L E N

    you still turn the pages back
    again and again and again
    back to when you were called
    a disappointment for the first time
    it was as if you were hit by a lightning,
    the fear, buried in the deepest crevices of your heart
    came to life right before your eyes
    no, you couldn’t take it
    you were already treading on dangerous waters
    with your own self
    and when you saw your mum
    shake her head dejectedly,
    swallowing whatever her mouth
    was about to say aloud,
    you knew right then that you’ve lost
    lost any reason to find excuses to defend yourself
    you’ve tried and tried and tried
    but, kept disappointing people
    no matter what

    it killed you within a little more each day
    but you’ve been ignoring the nagging monsters
    behind your head,
    their screams resonating within
    “you are no good,” they said
    just like that, you knew you had lost
    and yet, you’ve been faking a smile
    all along
    “it’s all for the greater good,” you said
    and nodded to yourself like you knew
    like you were reassuring others
    but infact, you were the one who needed reassurance
    the way that moment hung in the air around you
    reminded you of the little things
    that used to make you smile
    now, every time you smile,
    you are scared
    you sigh and push the consuming thoughts
    out of your mind, like you always do

    you keep crawling when your knees
    buckle underneath you
    you wondered how burdened Atlas must feel
    carrying the whole world upon her shoulders
    you tell yourself “it’s okay, it always is, you just gotta make others happy”
    you never thought of your own vanishing smiles
    it wasn’t your job,
    you never wanted to reach out
    your head was an awful place
    reeking of disappointment and pain
    you didn’t want people to see it
    you traced the same lines with your pale fingers
    every other night; they said
    “we lie best when we lie to ourselves”
    and yet, you never knew how you
    failed to see your own self in that

    ©meghana27

  • meghana27 2w

    Sciamachy - fighting your own shadow

    I don’t know what spews outta my head these days but just felt like saying hello
    *waves*

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    Sciamachy

    Do you remember the first time you were called trouble?
    how your eyes stayed wide, garnering tears
    how your chapped lips parted to defend yourself
    and then pursed on their own accord when you knew
    that it was more or less true
    you were trouble
    you pulled the strings in others’ lives
    you were a vexatious puzzle yourself
    and left them a tangled mess too
    your downcast eyes never saw the sky that day
    you were eleven then

    there were letters tied to your door knob one day
    saying your should come out more
    saying you’d look beautiful with your hair down
    and that you need to let the world see the verses
    tucked under your tongue
    and that it’s okay for you to let the world see you
    -the real you-
    you were fourteen then
    you never found out who gave you that letter
    but it sure as hell made you smile for a while
    and just for that day, you went out wearing your favourite dress
    and your dark hair splayed carelessly across your back

    You are sixteen now
    and still remain that silent one
    who doesn’t talk until spoken to
    who whispers to herself that she’s better alone
    one who feels that attachments are a rope around the neck
    whose hands itch for some warmth
    and then find escape
    within charcoal stains prancing upon the parchments
    swallowing your despair within themselves,
    within the vivid hues hidden in the depth of his cerulean eyes
    within the scarlet verses crackling, glamourising wreck
    and craving with a want of company and yet, remaining unheard

    You know that hurt and insecurities
    have found a way to reach within
    the deepest recesses of your callow heart
    and there’s no escaping them
    their claws have tarnished way too much
    their fangs have tainted way too much of your blood
    they’ve left your heart burning,
    searing like a wild forest fire
    never dying down

    now, here’s a fact about yourself that you’re learning to hate : you are so scared of yourself that you just wanna be empty

    ©meghana27

  • meghana27 4w

    Girls like girls like boys
    Love has no choice 🏳️‍🌈

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    Querencia

    “Love. It seems like a stranger each time it knocks your door wearing the mask of a damsel in distress. You can’t help but take it home and tend to its bleeding skins. You know that it’s gonna sneak out of your broken window once the darkness strikes and their broken hearts are kissed better. You know that it’s gonna forget those 3AM talks that you’ve had. You know that it’s gonna move on, forgetting your honeyed kisses and yonder conversations. Yet, you take it home and grow used to the fact that visitors that trespass your life never come there to stay.

    But, a certain time is gonna come when one fine stranger would find home within your heart rather than your abode. You’d realise that they’re here to stay. You’d feel like the most blessed person. You’d rub their golden, shining bare back while sunlight filters through the windows onto your tangled forms. You’d grow used to those sly winks and crooked smiles that they give sitting with their feet buried within the sand when your chiseled body emerges out of the crashing waves like a nymph, your shorts riding low on your hips. You’d moan about missing them the whole day while both of you put on your shirts and pants haphazardly and leave for work on every Monday. You’d take some time out of your busy day just to kiss their freckled cheeks and chapped lips and ask them about their day. You’d surprise them with blankets on the couch and DVDs when they get home late one fine Friday.

    You’d realise how everything had become so intense from being fragile and silly. You’d know better than to let the society’s cruel words get in between the both of you or to let the callow hearts define your love. You’d know that when time comes, you’d choose them above everything. It all comes down to the time when their face is all your eyes search for in a crowded room. Now is that time for me, Sebastian.
    I have fallen in love with you. I love you with all of my heart.”

    He wiped the stray tears away and staggered back to fall onto the sofa while I stood ramrod still, counting seconds and getting ready to accept his rejection.

    “I love you, too, Dante. I love you,” was all that he had said that day. And that was all that I needed to hear.

    ©meghana27

  • meghana27 6w

    Paint me in the colour of a dying leaf

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    F E U I L L E M O R T

    here’s the truth i have never told anyone

    when you speak about her, a smile adorning your chiseled face, i fist my hands within the pockets of my hoodie just to restrain myself from holding your hands in mine and tell you how many winters i have learnt to spend without your warmth
    When i gaze at you while you drape your arm around my shoulder, you look at me and give me a smile, the lopsided one that i have learnt to love

    i think you forget that i am not as strong as i pretend to be because you tend to push past me without sparing me a glance whenever you see her approach

    you break my heart over and over again and I LET YOU

    as we lay on my bedroom floor with my head in your lap,
    you ask me “are you okay?”

    i play with the hem of my frayed shirt and loop my arm around your torso, with the contentment in my heart vanishing in the blink of an eye and the smile on my face broken into two, not knowing which direction to head towards as i pay attention to the sound of ichor in my veins and the erratic beating of your heart in the pit of my stomach
    i want to ask you how long you’d stay oblivious when i cry into your cassette tapes and busted knuckles, i want to say that i like you more than i care to admit
    i want to say that each time i lay on my bathroom floor, drowning in red and blue, i wish to be saved
    i wish i could tell you that scars and grey skies were all i could see and that the emptiness was choking me, bleeding me out of life like a slow poison
    i wish i could tell you i hate myself for feeling this way and that i tend to turn to the little blade that is always hidden in the back pocket of my ripped jeans just so i’d have something more to feel other than your presence beside me

    i wish i could say i hate the fact that i should learn to accept : soon, i’d be gone and i would miss you more than i cared to admit

    but, i just shrug and say “i wish i knew”

    ©meghana27

  • meghana27 9w

    Now you know where to find me when I run whenever it feels right.

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    Escapade(s)

    1. I stare the busted lips standing out against my pale skin. Oh, they are so full of lies gleaming at me like rubies. Then again, my life has always been a facade, obscuring my vision. A marionette with broken strings. There is a feeling of contentment that wraps itself around me, comforting me whenever I evoke some feeling within myself; I don’t care even if that emotion is loathe or pain. My brown eyes trail down to see my fists scarred black and blue and the blood dripping down my frail fingers, shining like the sun-kissed waters of the sea at dawn. Its insane how I always tend to drift towards assembling my ashes into something, end up making a mess each time and yet, do it anyhow.

    2. My head reels back to a story, all the while resting upon the wet pillow. There was a time when a certain person’s smirk used to have me down on my knees. I would turn to him for every petty ache and did not expect him to become my heartbreak. His hands were stained with murder. And yet, I craved for his touch.
    He slammed into me like a hurricane fated to destroy everything around. Slowly infesting from within until taking over again.

    3. So, I think. I think and think and think. People are so full of juxtapositions and it irks me. For, most of them sound like the sweetest of melodies, pulling me to them like sirens seducing their prey but, don’t seem too appealing otherwise. I’m told that life’s just like the ocean and when are uncertain, you just keep swimming and swimming and swimming. How could you possibly do that if you were only made to drown? What if you were never made to swim? What if you were too damaged to save yourself?

    (And I have only known how to fall)

    A wry smile takes over my lips. It’s too late now to see myself as something more than a lovesick tragedy that all lovers tend to leave behind.

    ©meghana27

  • meghana27 11w

    where do the broken go
    to cry their troubles away?

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    M O N O T O N O U S

    1. Gloom smeared lashes flutter open to reveal an abyss. A pit of feelings that you’ve always been trapped in. A dreamy sound fills through the aisles while you sprint across, calling out for help. You smell of war and you feel the gloom stitched upon your heart. Oh love, you are jaded, alone and far too gone to be saved. A puff of air comes through your clenched teeth, a sigh accepting that this tragedy-scented stench is from within you.

    2. Music doesn’t soothe you anymore. It’s just a haphazard assemblage of mangled notes. A death of another unheard voice. A disarray of unwanted and unrequited emotions. You don’t sing your troubles away with a maddening ache anymore.

    3. So you sit with a blade between your fingers, folding your legs to your chest with raw insides and eyes sickeningly dry. You never were taught to wrap your own arms around your body and you’ve already given up whispering
    “hold me close or save me, please”
    You’ve already given up dowsing yourself in agony. All you do now is smile. Smile as the wind whips through your skin as you fly down. Smile as the earth slams onto your head, it’s fiery passion melting your wings, it’s untamed brambles feasting while you bleed. Smile as your last breath leaves you too, just like everybody else.
    Then do you see the colour of your fading life. Monotonous. Then do you ask yourself a question too late to be asked -
    tell me, would you live for me?

    //Tell me, does it feel good to feel nothing at all? Does it?//

    ©meghana27

  • meghana27 12w

    Home isn’t a place. It’s a person.

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    U n r e q u i t e d

    There is a certain sense of peace and chaos stirred up within the capricious walls of the beating heart. A certain eruption of emotion just as you inhale the scent of musk and twilight. A certain wave of heat jolting you awake just as your eyes meet his obsidian ones. You know that whatever you feel is forbidden. The more you try to pull yourself away from all of the clearly unrequited feelings, the more you feel trapped in the quicksand of the bubbling tingles that you feel whenever a little smile dances on his lips, taking your breath away.

    Your head doesn’t stop dreaming of his hands itching to rest upon your hips and the dips of your waist. Your heartbeat rises erratically just as his body brushes against yours. You know that his eyes don’t long for you; his heart doesn’t ache to have you in his warmth, in his arms; he doesn’t want you to be his and his lips don’t crave to be pressed again yours. It’s all your figment of imagination. A dream that you’ve always wanted to come true.

    But, with pleasure comes pain too. Your heart clenches and winces each time he says he doesn’t care about you. It tries to reassure you that you mean something to him. But your head, little one, is a bloody paradox wanting to be his everything and wanting to rid him of you. And here you are, whiling your time away, hoping for a little more each day.

    You know that he’s hurting and you wanna be his safe place. You know what he likes in his girl and you pretend. You clamp your lips shut when he says he finds a stranger pretty; sometimes, tease him for a while for his lips to break out into a heart-throbbing grin. Your heart already belongs to him anyway. It has been for a while now.

    //I’ve always loved him and I always will. For, he has poems pressed onto his skin and songs within his heart. For, he’s a little broken within and loves like the Devil loves sin. For, when I look at him, the world suddenly doesn’t seem so lonely//

    ©meghana27

  • meghana27 14w

    you never know how something feels until it hits you and when it does, it does with all of its might, sweeping you off your feet.

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    A C H E

    You are told there are
    always two sides of a coin
    For one to win, the other has to lose
    But, you should not burn your bridges
    for him to walk away while you drown
    you should not tear your smoked wings
    apart for him to feel better for not being able to fly
    you should not

    You are told that rose-coloured
    visions never let you down
    But, you should not fall in love with them or dance
    in the moonlight while the wolves drool over your waltzing shadows,
    waiting for an easy hunt
    you should not clink an empty glass of happy waters
    with them just to see them smile evilly and
    drag you to your doom
    you should not synchronise your heartbeat
    with that of the dusky rays of hope just to hear it break,
    flinch with every searing cut his poison tongue gifts you
    each time he kisses you saying he wants to take your pain away
    Yet, he says you stole a part of him with you
    Don’t we all leave parts of ourselves in every story that we live through?
    Aren’t we all just a mangled assemblage of poems written for us?

    You are told that love mends
    No, it doesn’t
    It’s all a bit tragic, isn’t it?
    You’ve become a petty thief now, roaming and stealing
    the resonating faint melodies of true love
    whose existence you’ve always been sceptical about

    You are told that life is far better than death
    perhaps, you think otherwise
    perhaps, you don’t know what you should believe in anymore
    Have the carousal trails of dichotomy left you?
    ( Unlikely, right? )
    Have the storm-brimmed eyes stopped weeping for every stranger’s loss,
    at least for the sake of your own wreck-stained cheeks?
    ( Of course not. The broken lullaby trying to lull you to a forever sleep isn’t working its magic either )

    Have you learnt how to say goodbye yet?
    ( If you did, you’d not be here painting a distorted picture of your passè smile and rotting bones barely stitched up into a carcass, waiting to be whole again, right? )

    ©meghana27

  • meghana27 15w

    Yes, you are going to destroy every wall that you’ve built with your own itching hands feeling way too lonely without the anxiety crippling within your bones, emotions rotting even the stardust that you’ve ingested, destroying everything that you’ve learnt to love. Again.

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    R U B B I S H

    The chilly twilight breeze ruffles your already unruly midnight locks splayed carelessly upon the godly white sheets tucked into your bed, hiding all of your tainted glory beneath. You pick upon your scarred skin and chapped lips making the tinge of copper the only thing that you feel. This is not the way you mourn for the loss that you’ve gone through. It was as if everything had toppled down, stumbling upon nothing, within a happy night. It was as if you had become hollow with rotting skin covering what’s left of your insides, within another night of almost hazardous nightmares stealing your little possessions of un-peaceful slumber that you own. This is not the way you spend your nights, lonely, avoiding the zephyr knocking at your door never taking a hint that you don’t want to see anybody.

    You are DEAD. Utterly NUMB.

    Your eyes are a colour of dark chocolate. Yes, the bland ones which are nothing out of the ordinary. The ones which do not have the power to sweep somebody off their feet. The ones which are now red and blotchy, filled with unshed tears and yet, so cold that they would freeze the room around. You wouldn’t feel a thing anyways so, why care, right?
    But, this isn’t the way you fix your broken pieces. Maybe, you don’t want to be saved. Maybe, you do. Numbness, however, does not know how to mend you. Oh, didn’t know it when you befriended him, did you? Like always, you’ve grown too attached to distance yourself without getting further shattered, if that’s even possible.

    Your skin is pale. A ghostly white, a strikingly opposite shade to your dark hair. You’re always clad in oversized clothes covering almost all of your whitish carcass, thanks to the gashes which seem to twinkle like carmine stars against your battered skin. This is not the way you reduce the pain clawing at your insides. This is not the way you pretend not to feel a thing while the blade scrapes open your skin in the most brutal way possible.

    You wonder, you are always told that whatever you do is not the right way. Why do they not tell you that the broken hearts cannot be mended?
    Why do they not tell you that you cannot be healed?

    Just, why?

    ©meghana27

  • meghana27 16w

    For a few minutes, I think I’m gonna feel okay.

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    C L O S U R E

    When you get asked what
    happened that turned you so glum,
    you get frustrated
    It’s ridiculous how we all drift towards other’s troubles
    no matter how vexing our own lives are
    You never knew at which point you decided
    that you did not deserve happiness
    You never knew at which turn of your life,
    you chose to deny looking yourself in the mirror
    Or to love yourself
    It just happened and within seconds,
    you are on the bathroom floor clad in a blood soaked shirt,
    bawling your eyes out for something that you couldn’t define
    Oh, yes, you have your happy moments
    but in all of them, there’s an underlying sadness
    gnawing at your insides
    You tried shutting it out but,
    when have you ever been good at anything whatsoever?

    When you have people around you, shaking you
    screaming at you, trying to make it okay,
    you lower your head down in guilt thinking
    if only you had the courage to drown when you had the chance,
    you wouldn’t be a burden weighing them down
    you feel guilty and vulnerable to be
    another concern infesting their heads
    (You hate it. God, you hate being weak. That doesn’t change the reality, does it?)
    You desperately flash upturned signs that you’re okay
    knowing that they do no good but do it anyway
    If you were made to heal, you would, wouldn’t you?
    But, how do you tell them that?
    No, how would you convince
    yourself to stop trying already?

    When you realise how peaceful silence and loneliness is,
    you tend to drift towards them
    You do it even though your head presses the trigger with the bullet tearing through your chest,
    You fail to cut your ties completely though
    You hold onto some unseen part, stuck between being
    scared to lose whatever you’ve got left and
    walking away from everything that you’ve ever known or loved

    When you know that you’ve stopped trying,
    you feel a tad better
    When you know that you’re here, not dead and certainly not alive, a sense of peace overwhelms you
    and just for a little while, everything is okay.

    ©meghana27