It's been a few years now Since you took back the flowers, The cards, the words, the light From me, homeless, Now, without a blanket To warm myself underneath, On the street we first met.
My legs shiver Producing heat, Alone, after you dragged away My only piece of warmth, It has been so long, Still sitting on this paved road Waiting for your footsteps To lift me up, Waiting for your words to take me back home, Waiting for your love to fulfill days, months Almost a year of your abrupt departure.
After so long Yet hope still binds my heart With your promise, That we made using both our pinky- finger While we crossed each others hands With a lasting smile on our faces, Now, all gone.
Today, I'm finally getting up, The wait is a sign That wherever you are, You've forgotten this street And the gravel that you treasured, me But you still hold the gold you extracted From her mere laughter, and love.
Now this street will never let you Take back the gravel you dropped, For any more of that gold, The gravel you left by the roadside, Has feet crushing it, Not noticing its worth, Like your actions have clearly spoken of.
Sunset now glows On this dark skin Where I sit away from home, From rejection, and loneliness.
Here the grasses are warm, And glowing for the last time Before the skies rays set, The ground is sturdy And more flowers bloom Without pressure, Like they want to travel To where their heart is calling.
An angel came in light, this day, Before dark rose, It looked like a native man Blowing me single leaves, Maybe he knew I deserved such, Maybe it was a way the sun Kissed me goodbye in disguise, Warming me up for moonlight stories.
But my world outside Had never been this calm And blissful, as even alone Feeling the company of one angel Lifting me with these succulent leaves. To let me go above, with the sun Leaving my home, leaving my solitude To live beside the cosmos, And take petals To etch some parts of the stars.
So, my family can live with me each night With their eyes, and keep me beside At bedtime, Not at home, but in their vision.
So that they'll look at me pure, For who I was with them and without, That people may leave their side, But never forget home, And what they may face under a roof.
But still shine bright independently, Knowing that they will always travel To be treated differently, Somewhere, Maybe even in fantasies.
I remember sitting at my desk studying for finals, and anxious of my results from the past ones I'd written. I was cold, I can remember, in the beginning of January, at this time last year, calming my nerves with words I started to scribble on my study flashcards. That time I didn't know where they came from.
Until now, I ask myself everday I come here, 'Where did I learn to write?' Of course that is the only question I have been able to form for over a year now, Nothing else has been able to squeeze itself, to ask. Who could tell me what to feel, who could tell me my words could go wrong? But I just started, at the dawn of this teenage reality, I kept to myself, inside my room, always Spending my time, searching for words deep down my brain, and it was as if I was tossing experiences and knowledge, at least this time I was glad they came to be of use other than school.
I remember when I told my mum, I said, 'mum look at the words I penned, what do you think?' She said, 'are those really your words?' Then I felt hardened for a few seconds and replied, yes, but I didn't mention to her about how this platform invested so much support in letting me grow.
I still regret that setback. But I had a purpose, my mum has always wished for me to become someone successful, someone in the medical sciences field. And yes, I wanted to pursue such, but my passion for writing had grown to now become a dream come true, it was my escape from the noise in this chaotic world.
I've never been satisfied in my life, Than scrolling through myriads of words on this platform, and getting inspired to write mine too. I'm glad to have met everyone, I'm glad that I found something I can pour my heart into, each day and not be regretful of the next step I take. The year I've spent here is memorable, and it will always be. Until I leave, if I ever do.
Thank you for 3.5k! I guess I'm not that lame after all.
We dance together in the garden Of curled gates and fruity trees Mounted with a fairly thatched roof Almost straw.
We looked dazzling As our figure grew smaller by the night And our steps became silent. We faded into the clouds already, Moving in every direction, with our toes locked upon each other and twisting back and forth. Like a ball dance, where Cinderella became noticed as the entire room raged in surprise.
In twos we both danced In our world of love Crashing the stars In the playground Where we found each other Beneath the swings and slide Of then, our childhood.
In twos we splashed in the rain Clothed in our raincoats And washed our hands together From tip of finger to in between fingers Like we performed ritual To join our hands with the sound Of thunder, as we counted one, And bent to hug each other.
In twos we walked All the way to the skies In our shoes To live in the milky way Among the ones That granted our wish To be this happy together.
And in twos We're grateful, To have carried the world of humans To our own in the skies.
Have you heard about Virginia Woolf? If you are on mirakee, I assume that you definitely have an interest in literature and so the answer to my question would be yes. She committed suicide when mental illness took her in its tight grip. Read the letter I am talking about in the post below.