a dark abyss softened by the moonlight's touch

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  • piecebypiece 4w


    Don't love me to erase your wounds.
    Don't love me to feel good.
    Don't love me
    Don't love me because I love you
    You don't have to

    I've been here before.
    And I can manage
    I can take my love and build a river.
    But don't give me your remains
    Don't throw in your ashes.

    You don't have to give
    or anything

    I do want you
    All of you
    Or even parts
    of you

    But I don't want what's left of you

    I don't want your dead skin, your loose flesh,
    your words; well thought out and well displayed
    I don't want you because you're over
    I want you when you are enough

    I want you when you see that

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  • piecebypiece 5w

    Recently, these dichotomies have fascinated me to great depths.

    Why is it that the ones that are afraid to lose you, hurt you the most?
    Why is it that the ones that want you, desire you, stay just out of reach, enough to keep your desire alive and their's accessible but never acquirable?
    Why is that when you give up on things, they have a way of crawling back to you?
    Why is that the exhilaration of failing right after you've given up on something, reach the same depths that posessing that which is so very valuable does?
    Why does darkness blind you in light? And why does light blind the darkness?
    Why do we live in these cycles?
    And why don't we see the part where these dichotomies meet?
    Why are the rich so poor and poor so rich? Why are we so alone, yet so content with being alone and also so content with pain? Why are we in pain?
    Why do we seek for an escape from the pain if we do not desire pain?
    And why do we seek for pain again when we do not have pain?
    What do we want?
    Why do we say nothing, when we behave like we want everything and why do we behave like we need nothing when there is always something that we want so bad?
    Why are we so unjust? Why don't we just become just?
    Why are we so broken, poor, ill, lying, crying and dying?
    And why is all this chaos,
    in it's undertone of death,
    called living?

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  • piecebypiece 5w

    Whether the world is just a speck or vast depends upon whether vast is just a speck or vast.

  • piecebypiece 6w

    Time doesn't tell anything.

    Time only shows you how pointless
    other than life is.

  • piecebypiece 7w

    The chaos in my stomach are butterflies,
    And honey, your voice is the nectar

    And lately I've noticed that you avoid glances,
    Am I stinging you?
    Because do you even realize how much your silence stings?
    My butterflies are starving
    And my skin seems to dream of your touch even when it's not allowed to.

    Can I have you back?
    You say that you are going nowhere
    But why don't I feel you when you are here.
    Why don't you hold me and ask me to stay?
    Why don't you keep me close?

    You know how short this life is,
    And you still choose to take chances.
    I hope I can keep my butterflies alive until you fill all your cups.

  • piecebypiece 11w

    *It's been six months*

    It's been six months
    Since what has happened.
    It was not a point in time.
    It was not a clear demarcation.

    It was something that induced a lot of fear, anxiety and sickness before it took place and even after it did,
    it did the same.

    The only time, infact, that I got to meet myself was when it was actually taking place.

    What more could have happened?
    I was at peace inside.
    I was hurting, it was unreal, I felt detached from the reality around me but I still felt like I almost weaved into the patterns of the entire universe.
    So out of control, so much a part of a rigid & smoothly flowing layout in which my participation was inevitable.
    I felt distant and a part of it at the same time.
    Everything had a delayed response.
    I was questioning all my senses constantly-
    Is this occurring, are my feet touching the ground, are these my hands?
    And strangely enough, at this point of complete depersonalization I realized how stupid I am.
    How stupid and insignificant my fears are.
    How insignificant all these constructs are.

    Out of all these insignificant things.
    Something that mattered was about to get deceased.
    The death of something, a construct, but a much wholesome one was about to sizzle and dissolve into thin air.

    It felt like millions of tiny parts of me were multiplying themselves and breaking apart further and further and at the same time trying hard to hold on to each other.
    It felt chaotic,
    Like echoes in my head of faint unclear sounds that felt like something that made profoundly painful sense but in reality, didn't.
    My breath and life were heightened.
    Admist all this pain, it's so crazy, that this was the one moment that I felt alive.
    It was proof that I am alive.
    Because if I wasn't, there is no explanation to the intensity of the experience.
    I cannot exactly pinpoint where it ended.

    But every now and then, it strikes me that this was my life a few months ago and I again sense a distance between myself and all the constructs of this world.
    I sense a weird circular glass barrier that encloses me and you. And the world crazily montages around it.
    But the next moment the lights go off.
    And I feel myself suffocated by my own singular presence, my skin, my body in a dark place with a strong stench.

    But I make it a point to not think so much.
    Everytime I do, my heart feels like it is being tied up with tight thread. It doesn't feel like it is pumping freely. My chest still aches the way it did the first time that I sensed that I had to be prepared for what's coming.

    Did I bring it all upon myself?
    What happened, why & how?
    I am overlapped by so many questions.
    I keep holding myself responsible and answerable.

    And the more that I try to experience these answers, I get swayed back into the chaos of everything and I lose sight of my purpose.
    So, does it really matter?
    Do any of these answers matter?

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  • piecebypiece 12w

    Making choices before attaining freedom is like wearing bangles inside handcuffs.

    Make it a priority to release your "self",
    only then can your choices reflect your "self"

    Otherwise you'll be in the place that our country is in
    after attaining its "freedom"

    Connect to your core
    not your conditioning

  • piecebypiece 12w

    I'm done trying to find myself in places outside of me
    Today I'm sitting still,
    and its overwhelming to meet me again
    This loud silence within me is what scares me, I guess

  • piecebypiece 15w

    As a child I always wanted to chase the wind. She was so free, so beautiful, the queen of her own will.
    So for years, I admired her.
    Then one day, I ran after her.
    The more I ran, the more she teased me.
    She flew past me, but I could never posses her.
    My long flocks, my eyelashes, my tan skin teased by her featherlike moves
    I wanted more.
    I ran faster and she was always almost there but never enough, never mine.
    One day I collapsed, exhausted
    I was in the think mud of the desert dunes.
    Far far away from home
    Wind still played her little games.
    The sand blew into my eyes.
    That day I was tired.
    I was hungry, and had to put myself first.
    I forgot the wind.
    That day I looked back and saw how far I had come.
    That day I saw all the things that I had missed.
    Chasing after the wind.
    And I did find water.
    A pond.
    I was lucky.
    I saw my shimmering reflection.
    I saw the wind playing with it.
    The wind, she didn't want me to kill her.
    She didn't want me to take away her beauty.
    To hold her, to cease her
    She didn't want to go away either.
    I looked at the pond
    Glimmering sunlight and the breeze
    A different breeze
    A breeze that flowed within me

    The wind was a metaphor for all that I had to access within myself,
    The lost flow that I had to find within me.
    And I found it the moment I stopped chasing after the wind.

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  • piecebypiece 22w

    I've always had a strange relationship with endings.
    I never have known how to draw a smooth full stop.
    When concluding my mind just stops working
    My heart aches
    And everything stops making sense.
    Reality splits for a second.
    And I'm left with an echoing dead end.
    Holding in my hands what I've got to give,
    I do not know how to drop it gracefully.

    How to walk away smoothy without my strides making it evident that I'm being pulled backward?
    How to say goodbye without a shiver?
    How to look without my eyes wallowing inside themselves making it seem like something within me ended?
    How to not feel a pause so hard that my stomach feels like it is being vacuumed inward?
    I do not know how to look at endings peacefully.
    I always hope there is an "ever after",I blame it on the movies.

    But there's hope for me.
    Because they say, practice makes perfect
    So maybe I can practice
    But I'd rather not.
    I'd rather suck at them.