I have noticed this pattern of how rains pour the winds may enter in silence and the drizzle evoke the sky in its petrichor The romance of fragrance and moisture Awakening the ghost of lost pearls from the oysters The voice of the trickle-down the windowpane Tapping the insides of hollow homes and dingy lanes The thunder would enlighten the gloomy blankets With its roar will come the warmth of hearts in dismay The daffodils will get drenched Its wild thirst will try to get quenched When its roots will get punctured By the swords of sweet water
I have noticed this pattern Of how rains own me in its form And let me get weathered in its downpour Hearing me sob, letting its thunderstorm Soothing my scars without washing it all
It somehow always makes me smile How rains arrive Each time I have cried.
Dard Mein Bhi Yeh Lab Muskura Jaate Hai Beete Lamhein Hamein Jab Bhi Yaad Aate Hai
John Green in all his sparkling brilliance said, "You don't get to choose if you get hurt in this world but you do have some say in who hurts you. I like my choices." Maybe, he felt it, maybe, he lived it, maybe, he scribbled it for the sake of darting his readers core once again with his ink of sweet torture. I do not know, I do not want to know. We've had our fair share of love and heartbreaks. But trust me, it doesn't hurt anymore. For very obvious reasons, you choose a person to own the bigger share of your heart without expecting anything in return. Whether she preserves it, caresses it or moulds it into a trash can, you still keep your lesser half inside the can. The memories won't haunt you. Rather, they would become a much sweeter version of nightmares which you'd want to live everyday. And everytime it'd sting, you'd smile.
Chand Lamhaaat Ke Waaste Hi Sahi Muskuraakar Mili Thi Mujhe Jindagi Teri Aaghosh Mein Din The Mere Kate Teri Baahon Mein Thi Meri Raate Kati
I remember the first time when we made love. You said that it was magical or I guess "enchanting" would be the exact term used by you back then. For me, it was a chapter of a book which had already started. Every sentence in it were like the creases on your lips, sheathed by my tongue. Every paragraph was like the passion with which you held the back of my head and neck with your palms slowly gliding down my spine. Every page was like the increasing cohesive intensity embellished by our intertwined legs. It was no ordinary day, it was an eve of a writer living his muse.
Aaj Bhi Jab Woh Pal Mujhko Yaad Aate Hai Dil Se Saare Gamon Ko Bhula Jaate Hai
Maybe, it was never about moving on. We're not together but it doesn't bar me from loving you. Maybe you're not here in person but I have the places, the moments, the memories and so much more to fill that infinite void you carved out. My art will always try to fill that never ending space. That would be my share of our infinity, which actually never existed.
Aaj Bhi Jab Woh Manjar Nazar Aate Hai Dil Ki Viraaniyo Ko Mita Jaate Hai Dard Mein Bhi Yeh Lab Muskura Jaate Hai Beete Lamhein Hamein Jab Bhi Yaad Aate Hai
"Tears in Heaven" is a song by Eric Clapton and Will Jennings. Its lyrics were inspired by the death of Clapton's four-year-old son, Conor, who fell from a New York apartment building. @writersnetwork@mirakee#MondayMantras#pod
Idk if this makes sense.
◆B A L L A D ' S OF T H E E M P Y R E A N.◆
The grey empyrean inscribes it's own poesy, With the tapestry of pecks from the thunder & lightning, Weeping in sync with the rain-drops as they fall as a solemn cadence. Smashing to smithereens whilst it abides for "miracles", Cascading it's smidgens as buoyantly gossamer mist, Reckoning the diamonds of calignosity which blaze with the light of the sun, The cliché of the azure's love story was divergent, Cynically & sinisterly romantic. Vacuous but adequate. Elysian but saudade.
Atleast the wild blue yonder realized that this macrocosm isn't just permeated with fake - caramelized promises of "I love you till I die."
Reverie's in sunshine & Candor in lies.
Heartbreak isn't poetry. It is not a thing to be sewn with whimsical metaphors - it's 4 ams, whiskey and "Tears in heaven".
What if I said that the cloudland masqueraded as Y O U - woebegone & alamort?
//The sky & the land, they never really had a love story yet Through all the hurricanes & droughts ~ love still sails.//