• asphodel_ 6w

    //मेरे हाथों में, न तेरी लकीरें
    है बहुत अलग सी अपनी तकदीरें //

    Why these lines murmured through my beats?

    I held myself back to the days when I was taken.

    It's not easy to sing those mellifluous days again through poetry, still I do to engage my little finger with a promise. The promise asking me to wait.
    I could still feel the breeze prevailing up the terrace, asking me to marry you. It hailed me to cloud nine, knowing it would be you walking alongside forever.
    But not every story end with flabby roses they could be bunch of thorns refurbishing your heart to never love again.

    Every breakup isn't intentional, sometimes you have to fade away to love each other. Till this day clouds roar the infinity of love immersed in your eyes. They still gleam with tears screaming the same verses, "will you be mine"? It's hard to dream, getting seperated from someone who loves you the most. There were days, when I was alone to dive into the ocean of traumas but they vanished as soon you haunted them with the care glittering through your fingers.

    No metaphors I need to adhere the lonliness I'm surviving now. We're sitting in two different worlds yet feel so close. We're the two sides of a coin, craving to be one but ain't destined to.

    Times come when I'm questioned, to be away even though you love me more than yourself. I fail to answer every hand raised for culminating us.
    How will I vocalise the fairy tale turning into a nightmare?
    Will they understand how much agony we bear?
    Will they mend us together into the daffodil again?

    I confine that phase of my life beneath my skin, reserving it to beautify my slits. I would never let anyone judge the way we loved cause it's not over yet. We are still living under the shore roofed with the love once condemned.

    I need not search you anymore when you yourself visit me everyday. With every danger coming near, my heart unconsciously starts beating as if it's you asking me to move away from the misery.
    Nothing can blend me to reveal the disaster ever happened.
    Every leaf paints a different story with it's alluring colours to recite our tale till eternity.

    I just wish, you hide behind the curtains and listen me complaining, not because you were wrong but I still crave for your shoulder to cry.

    We both had planted dozen of gardens full of asphodels for our graves and I will always wait for the end when my coffin will crown those bloomed petals of our withered commune.

    //failed love stories often become unending love tales //


    P.S I was not in my senses while writing it.

    Thanks for everything @mirakee
    Here I go with 50th scribble of mine.

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