thewordplayer

www.instagram.com/the____misanthrope/

I am the bitterest angst waiting for a cue to break point and bleed ink all over you :)

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  • thewordplayer 3h

    I read it when I was a kid, but may be the depth just increases with age ❤️

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    Sticks and stones may break my bones,
    but words can also hurt me.
    Stones and sticks break only skin,
    while words are ghosts that haunt me.
    Slant and curved the word-swords fall,
    it pierces and sticks inside me.
    Bats and bricks may ache through bones,
    but words can mortify me.
    Pain from words has left its' scar,
    on mind and heart that's tender.
    Cuts and bruises have not healed,
    it's words that I remember.

    -Ruby redfort

  • thewordplayer 20h

    I've been waiting so long for this.
    This moment.
    This moment, me diving in his soul.
    Seeing his beauty , his charm. His uncovered body telling me the stories of his scars.
    His veins. The blood in them.
    I love him.
    I've loved him all my life.
    This is the moment I ever wanted to live.This is the day I complete my story. I'm here. The other side of the wall. The other side of the world's right and wrong. Beyond the clouds. In the void where only love exists. Where skin is just a landscape. Where the soul takes command. Where the soul teaches you to listen to the sound you've never heard before. The sound of silence in this boulevard of the feeling no one could ever explain. The feeling people call Love.
    I was watching his eyes when he uncovered me. The eyes that were too shy to look at my skin. I saw his skin go red when his hand entangled me in his temple. The temple , where the cold air was soothing my soul. I was flying high without wings. I knew I was going to fall down on my head and die in his love. But I didn't care. All I wanted was these minutes of salvation.
    And then all of a sudden.
    We took the leap.
    All of a sudden , love was fulfilling itself.
    All of a sudden , we were no more two different body but just one soul.
    I was driven in his comfort. In his arms. When the scared heart tried to set back. I grabbed myself out of his arms. I grasped for my breath and looked into his eyes and a string of words escaped my mouth.
    "Do you love me?"
    "How can a soul not love its body" was his answer , to the question he's always dodged before. But tonight he was an open book. Or should I say, he was in the last page of his book, finishing his play.
    Moments passed. It felt as if spring was taking over the sky.
    I was laying in his arms. A blanket covering our body, hiding the secrets. The secrets the world was yet not ready for.
    It was the first time in my life , I saw his tears. I don't know what was those tears for. All I knew was that he didn't know it too.
    Our story was now completed. Our play in this stage was over.
    He stood up. His tears denying to stay in his eyes anymore. Falling down as a protest to stop him from doing what he was about to do.
    I understood.
    All I could do now is to look at him for the last time. Maybe I could remember him after I die.
    Maybe our story could find redemption and carry on the word.
    He opened the drawer below "The last supper" painting on my wall.
    He took out the gun. Pointed it at me. His eyes bursting out of tears now.
    With a heavy dead voice he tried to smile.
    "I love you. But the world isn't ready for us yet. Maybe in the next birth we'll meet and tell each other the story of how we were born just before we died."
    "GOOD BYE ARJUN" were his last words before his gun killed both of us.

    -----------------------------------------------------------------------------

    ps. I hope this time it isn't controversial :)

    pps. If u thought there is a typo here, then u have missed the catch :))

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    Take me to the stars

    "Do you love me?"
    "How can a soul not love its body."

    ©thewordplayer

  • thewordplayer 1d

    And no matter how gloomy your past was,
    when in the dark silence of midnight those
    moments are penned down on a piece of
    paper, you start reliving em. And that's actually enough to make you smile, at least for once.

    ©thewordplayer

  • thewordplayer 1d

    You were looking for wings to fly but I was merely a hearse. How could I love you, when I even fell short of loving myself.

    ©thewordplayer

  • thewordplayer 2d

    I will always remember last night.
    it was colder than usual.
    I was restless,
    I was pale and blue.
    and why? you sure have no clue?
    It was 3 am,
    the filters of my cigarettes laid on the ashtray
    The empty packets were begging for mercy,
    But I was not done,
    I needed another one.
    I was pale and blue,
    I was restless.

    I vigorously shook my pants,
    also my shirt,
    but not even a single stick
    to mend my heart.
    I hunted every corner of my room,
    I was digging in every drawer,
    before I found the stick of heaven,
    lying in the corner of the closet.
    It was mangled,
    it had stains,
    it reminded me of myself.
    Just then I remembered,
    this was the closet
    the one that was covered with dust.
    The one which time couldn't evade
    the one that preserved every card you gave me,
    every letter you ever wrote.
    I remembered this cigarette.
    it was the one you crushed,
    when you found it in my pocket.
    I remembered the letter you wrote after,
    making me promise to not smoke again,
    I kept it safe,
    I kept all the letters safe.
    I patted them hard,
    to removed the dust.
    I sat on my chair
    I read all the letters
    yet again,
    but this time, with water in my eyes.
    I wonder how often do we bleed, because we hold firm to what hurts us.
    I wonder how often we listen to that old song, or go to that old street just to kill our own happiness.
    I could feel your voice between the alphabets.
    I never felt this way since years,
    I was feeling loved,
    love, that I forced out of my life.
    love, that I no longer had.
    I will always remember last night.

    Yes,
    I will always remember last night
    when I set all your letters on fire
    and then lit my broken cigarette with that flame.

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    The letters

    I never felt this way since years,
    I was feeling loved,
    love, that I forced out of my life.
    love, that I no longer had.
    I will always remember last night.

    ©thewordplayer

  • thewordplayer 3d

    Conversation

    "Why did you do this to yourself?"

    "Two roads diverged in a yellow wood and I took the one that broke me better, so that I could write some poems on my way."

    ©thewordplayer

  • thewordplayer 4d

    I called her my moon. Little did I realise, moon belongs to the entire world.

    ©thewordplayer

  • thewordplayer 4d

    Conversation

    "What is the best thing you can do to a writer?"


    "Fill him with love and then leave. He will write about it, his entire life".

    ©thewordplayer

  • thewordplayer 5d

    .

  • thewordplayer 5d

    Sometimes you got to accept that certain things will never get back to how they used to be

    ©thewordplayer