spicy_sugar

www.instagram.com/spicysugartales

Don't mind reading them. Lot of 'em are trash that forgot the way to trash can. Use #spicyreads

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  • spicy_sugar 15h

    I choose you

    "Why me?"

    "With you, I no need to try, not like with others. I no need to be someone am not. I seek no validation with you, never felt the need to. I could be the mess that I am, with messed up hair, stinking past all over my body. I can smell like an undercooked poem and you'd still devour it. On my darkest days, I will be spilling my ink all over pages, making a mess. I will sleep on the ink spilled floor, stain myself with blue and red sometimes, you call my mess an art, "not a mess but raw," you'll slowly whisper. You will not say it's beautiful, but you wouldn't say it's awful even. You have the most honest eyes I have ever seen. Sometimes I wonder how it feels to be reading into this dark 'art' I make daily. I wonder how you never flinch! How blessed am I to show the darkest corner of my life to someone and they still chose to stay and listen further? That is you, Mirakee, so, I chose you."

    ©spicy_sugar

  • spicy_sugar 1d

    Sometimes I feel like there is no poetry(my poetry) without pain.

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    If you say, a drunk poet is no poet, I am no poet.
    'Cuz am drunk on pain

    ©spicy_sugar

  • spicy_sugar 1d

    //What have I done, dwelling in the place I don't belong to? What have I done, loving the pain I shouldn't? What have I done, tracing the silhouettes, blind and dumb? Oh, what choice do I have than to embrace a painful lie, when the truth is agonizing!//

    //The fire consumed me, body and soul. I ran, I flew, alone and away, in pain and agony, in hope of living. The known strangers cried, hugged the life outta me. But they are just that, strangers. I held out my hands, wishing for one person. A person cared not, or, maybe, dared not, to hold my hand.//

    #chastushka @mirakee @writersnetwork

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    Dreams I dream leaves me in despair
    In pain and all its synonyms, I can't bear

    She comes and dwells in them like she owns my mind
    That she does, declaring the love redefined

    I wouldn't have it any other way, even if I have to
    Or maybe I do, I wish I didn't have to bid adieu

    ©spicy_sugar

  • spicy_sugar 3d

    Poetry is my muse

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    Few have a muse for poetry
    Few, poetry for muse.


    ©spicy_sugar

  • spicy_sugar 4d

    #temporary
    I am too lazy to delete my temporary posts and too tempted to make every post temporary!
    (One day I will push myself to push them into a trash can where they actually belong, like the day before yesterday)

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    Unpopular opinions anyone?

    Mine: Introverts are NOT boring

  • spicy_sugar 4d

    Bury me with my mother's blanket of love wrapped around me. So I will not feel cold from the freezing nights. So her warmth will spread through my then-cold and stiff corpse. Bury me with my sister's pillow, the hard one she loves to sleep on, so I will not feel alone. So it will give the comfort my sister always gives me and will be the crying shoulder, my sister, then cant provide. Bury me, besides my father's grave, so I can tell him things I couldn't when I was alive, when he's alive. Maybe then, for once, he'll listen and actually understand.

    Bury me, with my pen and paper, so people will know, I waged a war with a pen, my sword, and paper, my armor. And they are my only armaments. Bury me, with all my stories that didn't make it to the books, poems that didn't make it to the reader's eyes, letters that didn't make it to my lover. So people will know, I now made it to my haven, a bed of poetry, along with my mum's blanket and sister's pillow. And that will be my new home.

    Bury me with my stethoscope and apron,
    so �� will know that the war I waged was not a lost battle,
    the life I lived was not completely useless.


    //Bury me not with flowers and tears
    but with all those things that made me "me" over the years.//

    - S̶p̶i̶c̶y̶S̶u̶g̶a̶r̶

    #afterlife @mirakee @writersnetwork #ceesreposts

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    Bury me not with flowers and tears
    but with all those things that made me "" over the years.

    [READ CAPTION]
    ©spicy_sugar

  • spicy_sugar 1w

    It sounded different in my head!

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    A poet puts himself on fire, writes about burning through the wild flames, and calls it passion.

    ©spicy_sugar

  • spicy_sugar 1w

    High time I (we) remember and embrace it.

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    In my not so long life, I have learned a thing or two
    One being "failure and success are NOT different routes."


    ©spicy_sugar

  • spicy_sugar 1w

    She broke me, just a little less than a million times.
    Nah, she ain't at fault.
    Am just fragile

    ©spicy_sugar

  • spicy_sugar 1w

    I am going on and on about lies people started to question my truth.

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    We will come to love lies
    I mean, we all are afraid of the truth one time or the other
    Aren't we?