priya_kaur

www.mirakee.com

Some writings will be personal, some will be exercises in imagination. Which is which? Well, I'm not telling ;)

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  • priya_kaur 23w

    Love is...

    A dog that doesn't allow you to be alone and it annoys you,
    Until you've had a really bad day, or you're scared, or you're feeling like a piece of disintegrating shit.
    Every time he follows me into the bathroom, and I'm thinking, "Can't I just have this one moment of privacy to do my ugly business?" This idea means very little when I'm feeling lost and he circles around me, making me focus on something other than my silly thoughts.

    Love is...

    The cat that knocks everything off of everything, bites your foot unexpectedly and pounces away before you can strangle it, and I'm thinking, "Why did I sign up for this punishment?"
    This idea means very little when she curls up in my lap, on a cold winter day and sings to me with her purring lullaby.

    Love is...

    The friends that talk so much, and sometimes they're so whiny, so moody, so unhinged you just want to pull your damn hair out.
    And I'm thinking, "Can't you just contain for a little while...be quiet and be still?"
    But they energize you, surround you and help you to see your own self in the beautiful reflections of themselves, lift you up...when you've forgotten all. You see yourself by seeing them.

    Love is...

    Men that are so quiet, awkward with spoken words, often too sharp or rough when they use them, or they just cant figure out what to say or what to do--so, they go away a lot--
    And I'm thinking, "Can't you just sit still and see the inbetween? Speak up...your silence is too loud."
    But they will surprise you with little things, notes, songs, gifts to let you see they really do hear you, or my personal favorite...
    When they hold you closely to their body and rest their chin on your hair.

    Love is...

    Seeing everything--
    The beautiful and the ugly,
    The good and the bad,
    The gray in a black and white world,
    And not being able to do a damn thing about it...

    Love is...

    Fighting the world for the annoying, obnoxious, loving, magical, darling creatures and things that make your heart beat and your soul burst at the seams.

    Love is...
    Everything...
    ___________________________________________________
    @odysseus @soulfulstirrings

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    What is Love.?

    ©priya_kaur

  • priya_kaur 23w

    //Maybe someday I’ll float//

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  • priya_kaur 23w

    Let me tell you a secret,

    One day, you’ll look back at everything you have done and miss it. Sure, there will be times that you stressed and had pressure on you. You will remember how you laughed at dumb jokes and cried at things that truly moved you. You will have been present in some moments and distant in others. You will remember the love you had for people that supported you and find hate that you didn’t know you possessed in your heart at that time. Sometimes you will think about your future and become overwhelmed, but to be honest..

    That has nothing on missing the things in your past. No one explains to you what they miss the most until you can understand it for yourself. We hear people tell us to stop trying to grow up so fast but our minds are already racing to be older, and smarter, and stronger, never quite realizing the innocence we are losing as we acquire those things. We are ignorant to the fact that as we grow, we leave so much behind in the process. We can get so caught up in what we’re doing that we often forget the why and sometimes forget that the now will soon turn into a then.

    We are all ticking time bombs, sitting and watching as each of our alarms ring at a different times, waking us up to the reality that we don’t have forever. Reminding us that we are not quite immortal and that one day the bell will ring for us all. I know this to be true in everyone’s life and sometimes it comes right at the end, but why? Why do we wait until the curtains are closing and the lights are fading to make the most of our plays?

    So, what have we done that we are proud of? What have you done that you regret? Who have you lost without loving? There is still time.

    As we breathe we hope, As we hope we dream, As we dream we live, As we live, we love.

    The secret is that life really isn’t that complicated, it’s just that we often forget to live.. somehow, we waste so much of our lives not knowing what it is to be alive..

    ©priya_kaur
    ___________________________________________________
    @odysseus @soulfulstirrings

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  • priya_kaur 23w

    I. Empires don’t fall unless you do first - likewise, to fly you must split open your spine and grow wings where your scapulas act as topsoil. you cannot crown yourself until the universe bows down, but letting daffodils flower ‘round your skull might suffice.

    II. You can’t tell if your cracked ribcage is prison or protector to hold captive your fluttering heart or to keep it safe. rubies glitter where your sternum lies but they blend in with the color of your blood; so much for being royalty. your pelvis laughs and wrings its hands around twin staffs.

    III. Behind your radius spans a galaxy reaching the shores of your ulna. he keeps your sacrum sacred with low whispers, will trail kisses lengthwise on your femurs, make emblems on your mandible holy. vines will grow in the cavity where he leaves a hole.

    IV. I can’t call myself much of a poet if my brain fogs up and knows anatomy more than pretty words. but one cannot leave their bones with someone to keep ceremony, they can only leave prophecy..


    ___________________________________________________


    @soulfulstirrings @odysseus
    @sqbscribbles @petrichor_tales
    @love_whispererr

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  • priya_kaur 23w

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  • priya_kaur 23w

    You are yellow.

    Yellow like the daffodils that bloom in March.
    Like the fields that stretch across the countryside.
    A soft yellow like the body of my guitar.
    Like the leaves of early autumn.
    A gentle yellow like the flares of a campfire.
    Like the fairy lights that sway gently from my ceiling.
    Yellow like the first few glimpses of dawn.

    You’re so yellow that you could be mistaken for white.
    But I am blue.

    Blue like the tired eyes of a teen deprived of sleep.
    Like the east side of the sky when the sun sets.
    A pale blue like the hands of the cold in January.
    Like the tears that fall from the hurt.
    A frightening blue like the tide that washes everything away.
    Like the ink from my favourite pen.
    Blue like the veins that show bold from my wrists.

    I’m so blue that I could be mistaken for grey.
    But you and I could be green.

    Green like the freshly cut grass in April.
    Like my favourite apples from the supermarket.
    A bright green like the hills in the distance of the view from the park.
    Like the garden from a memory.
    A soft green like the colour of my cotton sweater.
    Like the trees which stand tall and proud in the spring.
    Green like the four leaf clovers I’ve always wished to find.

    Oh you and I could be so green that we could be mistaken for turquoise...

    ©priya_kaur
    ___________________________________________________
    #temporary

    @soulfulstirrings @odysseus
    @sqbscribbles @petrichor_tales
    @love_whispererr

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  • priya_kaur 24w

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  • priya_kaur 24w

    सारे दायरे कस लिए हैं,
    आजाद होने की तिलमिलाहट है।
    जुगनू तमाम जला दिए और
    अंधेरे से फिर शिकायत है...।

    ©priya_kaur