The scars of revolt deem the pursuit of achieving. A traveler lost in reign of debts. Fail to foresee the signs of validating redemption. The prolonged paths drenched towards anxious mending. How each wisp of air suffocate the system of compilation. I keep paraphrasing beauty within scratched aliveness. The world suffice a painting with vague words of help. The colors l indulge are just ruins of trespassing time. No survivor has guided faith without consuming the storm inside. The storm breaths in a black hole, cultivating system into vacuum, pit. Hallow reach for rescue greet with the flames of neglect. Guiding a halo requires a beam of resilience. And I only exist in darkness.
You see, sometimes the music that's played again & again just becomes noise. It's hard for a song to remain a song. Sometimes love letters just become mere random words. It's hard for a promise to remain a promise. Sometimes apologies break people more than they mend them. It's easy for a wound to remain a wound. (Forever) I am strangely obsessed with dead roses now. I wish to carry sunflowers in my pockets. But they suffocate & die. Dandelions in my careless hands got crushed. No wish survives. I am a graveyard. A graveyard of my own dreams. Its broken pieces buried themselves and I bleed wherever I step. A deep deep sigh. The older I grow the more I feel like a lost kid. I can't explain people that brokeness runs in my family. Art is hereditary and so is coldness. You tell me your mother taught you numbers by making you count the stars. Whenever I tell you that you are lucky to have a loving family I'm actually reminding myself how unlucky I am. I don't want to use 'love' & 'family' in the same sentence. I live in a distant past. Flailing for answers only to fetch more questions. A wound never healed smarts again. You don't notice as my heart rips apart. Your sadness has got everything to do with me. But mine got nothing to do with you. You don't like me when I'm sad. So I smile, wondering if you like me at all. Nobody understands me which is to say nobody understands my sadness. You will never know what it's like to be kind enough to listen to everyone but never being brave enough to speak. I find things that might make me numb. But they don't last for long. Do they ever? Does anything ever? Sadness finds me. In movie scenes that are not supposed to be sad. In lyrics of a painless song. In the walls of my perfect "house". In the silence of my "perfect" family. It finds me. It's inside me. I am dragging a meaningless empty existence. I am crying while listening to my favorite songs. I am holding my world together with poorly written sentences I called poetry. But for how long? How long? //I can't do this anymore// ~mahnoor
It's weird writing to you in mails. Clustered in torn ideas and wanting to make memories. Maybe your mailboxes are full. My words, distant and dusted. So maybe tonight let me talk.
Let's just hold hands and talk about the stars. The ones that don't have names and don't shine. Tell me, are they scared of the light? Or are they tender and ruined?
I am sorry. This went gloomy. I was thinking about the asteroids. The shooting stars. I like the way they fall. Burnt. And it's funny how people wish upon them. I mean what, ever lands safe? But wait, were they meteors? Breathing fire. I don't know, but well.
I always wished though, that it were ending tomorrow. The world. And tonight it makes more sense than ever. If it were to happen, there would have been no time constraints. What if time as we know it, has been irrelevant. As much as you and I. And we would be loving irresonably, irresponsibly, irregularly, irrevocably and with every such term that is as such because we had no time. Also I read somewhere that one never meets right people at wrong time because they are timeless.
And maybe thinking about this, makes me strong. I know I ain't strong but I can feel the 'er' in the word as I say it.
I know, right and wrong, are subjective. But you know when you, feel it. And somehow, that's enough.
Maybe love too, feels the same way. It doesn't come with a merit system. And maybe that's what love is. It's crazy.
You have been hurt so bad that you have tried unlearning love. Redefinig it. Redressing it as something to look at mornings. Referencing it to have breakdowns. Because obviously it's all too overwhelming to take in.
I am sorry. I deviated. We'll talk about stars. Just stars. But are we, as lost?