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  • thegreymetaphor 2w

    You ask me to wish,
    wish upon dying lights,
    upon shooting stars,
    as if those celestial bodies up there
    have got no better job
    than give a fuck about me
    from light-years afar.
    You hold me close
    and melt yourself against me.
    Kiss me in gasps and breaths,
    darlin' don't you see?
    I let your fragile fingertips
    tingle my parched skin
    only to cool my seething flesh
    scarred with seventeen sins.
    And after the midnight
    when you scoot yourself closer
    slowly snuggling me in
    and I sneak out of your embrace
    saying your warmth
    is way too suffocating,
    I see you turning over and
    mumbling in your sleep,
    "One day you'll love me and baby,
    I've never minded waiting."
    I look at your peaceful face,
    your eyelashes gleaming
    under the moonlight,
    I rest my head over your heaving chest
    and slowly close my eyes.
    I know not, how to love you
    and even less of
    how to let you love me.
    We truly love someone only when
    we set them free.
    So let's just sit beside an ocean
    with a handful of pebbles.
    And when I plunge them in,
    Will you count the ripples?



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    I know not, how to love you
    and even less of
    how to let you love me.
    We truly love someone only when
    we set them free.


  • thegreymetaphor 3w

    And some of your stories
    will end in a way that
    you won't get to
    pour your drunken heart
    out to strangers
    narrating why it ended
    without beginning.
    The subjects will walk away
    leaving behind shards
    of their fragrance
    with you trying to
    clutch onto them
    with all your might.
    You won't get to flip
    the pages of their journals
    and wonder why was
    your name lost
    among a sea of others.
    You won't have a sad letter
    on your bedstand to
    read under the lamplight
    with a cup of hot coffee.
    And most of all,
    You won't get to weep
    over the indifference of
    your characters.
    They will end and that's about it.
    You see,
    not all goodbyes are dead ends.
    But, they're ends anyway.
    Sometimes, of stories
    and sometimes, of a part of you.



    I hope you all are doing well. Take care. :)

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    No matter how it falls apart

    There's an "art" in breaking hearts

    But there's no fair in farewell.
    The silent "hell" in "I wish you well".

    -The Script (no good in goodbye)

  • thegreymetaphor 10w

    The other day,
    I tried writing a poem.
    A poem about starting over
    and about moving on.
    A poem about a phoenix
    being risen and reborn.

    A poem about embracing
    the fall like a deciduous tree.
    A poem about finally,
    finally setting myself free.

    I rejoiced this feeling
    that seemingly took ages
    to come by.
    I decided I'd pen
    everything about it
    so I never forget what it's like.

    But, the moment
    the nib of my pen grazed
    the fresh blank page and my
    hand began to draw,
    It slipped over to the left
    scratching an ugly looking scrawl.

    I tried once again,
    this time, keeping my hand
    steady as a brick.
    but the surface of the pages
    were too uneven to let me proceed.

    I turned pages over pages
    to locate the hurdle
    that kept turning my poetry
    into ill-shaped doodles.

    I could find nothing
    till the last of my journal
    until I saw a small hump through
    it's chocolate brown cover.

    I tore open the cover
    anticipating what I'd discern
    and there lay the shreds of your letters
    that I was brave enough to tear
    but not enough to burn.



    Did you burn it yet?

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    The last letter.

    To say good-bye for the two of us
    Tonight while you're asleep
    I'll kiss you softly one last time
    And say good-bye like I know we must.


  • thegreymetaphor 11w

    "In every shining moment of happiness is that drop of poison: the knowledge that pain will come again."

    -Albus Dumbledore

    The title of this piece has been taken from book/movie of the same name. To those who don't know about it, highly recommended.

    Here I am. Once again writing about something that has been on my mind since forever and once again failing miserably to do justice to it. :/

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    The pursuit of happy-ness.

    For as long
    as I can remember,
    I've thought that happiness,
    true happiness, when it comes,
    would be the one
    where nothing, not a single
    thread of sorrow
    would hold me back.
    That true happiness meant
    only delight in your heart
    with no sign of despair.
    That my 'truly happy'
    would be where every
    ounce of anguish would be
    erased from my life,
    even if just for a short while.
    And for as long as I can remember,
    I've looked forward to it.
    I've awaited my moment of
    complete and unadulterated bliss.

    Awaited it like,
    everytime I'd be happy,
    a small corner of my heart
    would drift off to what ifs.
    What if this too could have
    been accomplished?
    Oh! If only that hadn't happened,
    this moment could have
    been so much more wholesome.
    I used to think that
    no matter who we are
    or what we have done,
    we all deserve a moment like that
    even if just once in our lives.
    That we owe it to ourselves.
    To the little human that
    resides inside all of us.
    And that has perhaps,
    dampened what those moments
    could actually have been.

    I've waited for it.
    I've cried dreaming for it.
    I've yearned for it, worked for it
    and even prayed for it.
    And yet, it seems like
    all I've done is find more
    reasons to crib over.
    Do people who say things like,
    "live in the moment"
    actually do it?
    Or are they just preachy?
    And if it's so easy
    for a drop of misery to rain
    over all of our sunshine
    then why does even an ocean
    of happiness fall short
    to make up for the sorrows?

    Maybe, it's not possible
    for them to not coexist.
    Maybe, happiness isn't absence
    of sorrow but rather
    acceptance of it.
    Maybe, feeling it inside
    your bones is just a side effect
    and happiness isn't
    necessarily meant for that.
    Maybe, happiness is just a way
    to make us anticipate what
    could be waiting on
    the other end of the tunnel
    so we can be daring enough
    to walk through it.
    Maybe, as Chris Gardner would say,
    "Happiness is something we can
    only pursue and never actually have it."

  • thegreymetaphor 15w

    I am scared.
    I'm scared cause everyone
    around me seems to be
    becoming okay with goodbyes,
    slowly and gradually.
    They tell me ends are beautiful.
    Sad, yes. But beautiful.
    They've romanticized
    the endings that were
    never meant to be.
    Heck! Are endings ever mean to be?
    I see them glamourising
    the goodbyes through
    poetries and sonnets
    and stories and songs.
    I see them ignoring the voids
    the goodbyes left in them
    as if they weren't
    knots burdening their hearts.
    I see them encapsulating
    the entire chaos that this feeling is
    within a line as simple as
    "somethings aren't meant to be".

    I am scared.
    I'm scared cause I feel
    I'm turning into them.
    I've started hiding myself
    behind phrases like,
    "unended beginnings
    are meloncholically beautiful."
    I'm scared that one day,
    years down the line,
    while sitting at a beautiful cafe,
    there'll be a gentle tap
    over my shoulder
    and I'll turn around to a face
    I had bidden a reluctant
    goodbye to,
    and I'll be able to ignore
    the tightness in my chest
    and smile at them.
    I'm scared that I'll heave a sigh
    at our memories and
    tell myself, "it's okay,
    somethings aren't meant to be".
    And I'm scared that I'll mean it.


    I haven't been able to do justice to this feeling that has haunted me since forever. Not even in the slightest.
    I wish I could. :/

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    Pick a star on the dark horizon
    And follow the light.
    You'll come back when it's over.
    No need to say goodbye.

    -Regina Spektor (The call)

    ~ Staying is a lot easier.
    And goodbyes, more poetic. ~

  • thegreymetaphor 18w

    And you were there at the turn
    Caught in the burning glow
    And I was there at the turn
    Waiting to let you know.

    -Linkin Park (Burn it down)

    "They say bad things happen for a reason
    But no wise words gonna stop the bleeding." -The Script

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    Ignorance is bliss.

    Warmth burns us, slowly.
    And we humans, mistake it for love.
    We embrace it, cling to it
    like it was the only thing missing.
    We succumb to it
    like our lives depend on it.
    And in the end,
    all that's left are the ashes
    of our misplaced hopes
    scattered in all the corners
    that once housed joy.
    All that remains are
    the staggered breaths and broken sighs
    heaved over the realization,
    how all this while,
    we kept pretending
    that we don't see it coming.


  • thegreymetaphor 19w

    I've learnt to say goodbye
    in way too many languages
    and love,
    in way too less.
    I seldom let my heart
    grow roots
    within a city
    for the interim homes
    made out of people
    are easy to love
    and easier to leave.
    I find beauty in the way
    a sandcastle allows itself
    to get perished
    when it refuses to
    let go of the wave.
    You see,
    I'm a lover of poetry
    and tragically or not,
    I rarely find it
    in the cackles of spring.
    I'd rather prolong
    the autumn,
    just to kill a few more leaves,
    just to exalt a few more deaths.
    And if you tell me,
    you'd still find ways to love me,
    let me tell you,
    I will break your heart
    just to break mine a little bit more,
    just to draw a rhyme,
    more beautiful than before.



    Coz where else can I not make sense, if not here? 乁˘o˘ㄏ

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    Darlin' I'll burn your roses
    just to suck a sorrow
    out of their ashes.


  • thegreymetaphor 20w

    We've been beside the fireplace for almost two hours now. Watching the flames blazing up and down and talking about avengers while sipping on hot chocolate. The soft Korean quilt draped around us has started loosening up and the flames have started dying out and I'm still not even close to explaining why I'm team Thanos because you just wouldn't settle for any explanation I throw at you.

    I tell you avengers suck because it's hilarious to watch how your face contorts as it gets worked up. You grab my face and tell me to take my words back and the dark room around us falls silent except for the clock ticking away and the crickets stridulating beside the crackling fire. You gaze into my eyes. You lean in. And then two inches away from my face, you stop. I see a series of emotions flicker through your helpless eyes before a realization sets in. You sigh, graze my cheek with a thumb and tell me it is time for bed.

    You know I'm in love with you. In the most twisted yet sincere way. You knew it when I let you have my share of cheesecake last Sunday because you were upset that yours got finished. You knew it when we rain danced to 'Moves like Jagger' last night because you missed home. You knew it when I stayed up all night trying to cool your burning forehead with a wet handkerchief. You know it everytime you flip and I tell you that it's okay. You know of every little way I love you in.

    You know I'm in love with you because you aren't.



    Okay. This is a very old piece that I haven't been able to write an ending to, even after trying numerous times. Whatever I think of somehow feels out of place.
    So, would anyone like giving me a suggestion?
    An idea for a concluding paragraph that might wind it up in a more complete manner, maybe?

    Or should I just leave it like that? Unfinished. :D

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    You know I'm in love with you because you aren't.


  • thegreymetaphor 22w

    I cheated myself,
    Like I knew I would,
    I told you I was trouble,
    You know that I'm no good.

    -Amy Winehouse

    Greyish much?

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    Do not mistake me for a poetry,
    I pray you.
    I'm a wave you can't be a bystander to.
    I'd sweep you off your feet
    only to return to the shoreline
    when you're in too deep.
    You would perish
    looking for a rock to hold onto.
    And I would smile
    as I let you.


  • thegreymetaphor 23w

    I do not know
    if forever is a myth
    or if
    it's simply mortal.
    I know not
    if heartbreaks are
    or aren't
    If it's a given
    that love,
    one day,
    shall succumb
    to it's own dearth.
    That all
    you ever hoped for
    shall come
    crashing down
    to earth.
    If it's a given
    that one day,
    the very arms that
    embraced you
    will fail
    at being enough.
    I hope,
    I hope on that day
    it's you,
    you who gets to fall,
    fall out of love.



    To those who fell on love's merciless side,
    I hope you fall out first, the next time.

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    Falling out.

    I brought you daffodils in a pretty string
    but they won't flower like they did last spring.

    -Tom Odell (Another Love)