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  • shristi28 7w

    You look at me and give your remarks -
    Ahh, you look so thin, put on some weight.
    You have got a pimple, lol!
    What's that? An acne scar?
    You look so tan. Apply that mask I told you about last time.
    So much oil on your hair. Stop putting that bun everyday.
    Change your hairstyle. Aren't you bored with it yet?
    Did you forget to apply the eyebrow pencil?
    Dab on some powder. Your face looks so oily.
    You are so short, haha!


    Why is it always about this?
    Why can't you dig a little deeper than my appearance?
    Why does your eyes come to a stop at my looks?
    Why can't you scan a bit more?
    How about complimenting me about my smile and radiance today?
    How about stop being a walking talking mirror giving out opinions?

    ©shristi28

  • shristi28 7w

    What makes you hide your pain from the world?
    What makes you pour it as lines and name them as "random thoughts"?
    Are they really random?

    ©shristi28

  • shristi28 7w

    ये दुनिया बड़ी अजीब है
    गलतियाँ तो बहुत देखती है
    पर जब कोई खामोश होता है
    उसका दुखः नही देख पाती

    ©shristi28

  • shristi28 13w

    Living in fantasies can only help you for a while but finding a solution by surviving reality will bring out the best in you.

    Read More

    Problems are like leeches,
    they stick to you,
    suck your peace everyday,
    waiting to be thrown out by you.

    ©shristi28

  • shristi28 15w

    And there is this pattern that I am tired of-
    You choose to be alone because you fear to be left alone by someone again so you keep distancing yourself from everyone or anyone who tries to know you or come close to you.

    But also there are times when you try so hard to overcome that fear, after repeated discussions with the voices in your head and heart you finally for a moment listen to your heart and come out of your cocoon, hold on to a string that connects you with another soul, but when you feel love stroking the barriers of your heart, you freeze.

    Waves of memories hits you and sinks you in the past letting you swallow the salty lies again and again, you swim, swim so hard to reach the shore of loneliness to save yourself from the currents of agony that might drown you.

    You promise yourself to never let that happen again and add another layer of coldness to keep the warmth of love away.
    Yet there are times when you crave to be loved and step in the vicious pattern again...

    ©shristigsp28

  • shristi28 16w

    Tears have stopped stinging my wounds of past, now they flow like rain soothing a parched land letting my soul breathe in the petrichor of peace.

    ©shristigsp28

  • shristi28 17w

    Music- An invisible parachute

    Lets you jump from heights when you're feeling low, ready to save you from colliding with the ground of hopelessness.

    ©shristigsp28

  • shristi28 17w

    If it hadn't been for the fear of agony striking us again,
    there would be more confessions of love in person
    that often gets choked betwixt the pages.

    ©shristigsp28

  • shristi28 17w

    I rarely step in the attic these days
    Mostly you would find me standing at the door, staring, clueless, numb
    It feels like the boxes stuffed with your memories call out my name
    The picture albums, the old cassettes, the love letters still smells like you
    The attic smells like you, my love
    Pages of the books crave for your touch just like me
    Your favorite radio doesn't work anymore,
    it hates your absence, may be it loved to play only for you.
    Remember, how the winds from the window would touch our skin and refresh our soul?
    May be they left after you left.
    I have moved a few clothes up here, not to make room for my dresses, but for yours, the closet is all yours, my love.
    I hate sleeping on the bed, may be too much space is suffocating me.
    Passing out on the couch wearing your tshirt and socks makes my lonely nights a bit comfortable.

    I miss you. Our home misses you. I love you.

    ©shristigsp28

  • shristi28 17w

    A poem begins as a river of feelings flowing to the ocean of thoughts, a home for the lost souls where they explore and seek solace in words.

    ©shristigsp28