//She pretended to hide her feeling But loves the hardest. She wanted to conserve her trust As she knows the truth But •STILL• there are chances She surmised. //
//Her withered face still smiles the brightest. Because she knows if She caught crying they will make her more hassle. She listened to •ARIJIT SINGH• but sings something divergent. //
//The scene was of separation, And she acted like a B-O-H-E-M-I-A-N So strange, what's about her rage! She was strong and bold. She pretended to hide, to smile ... It's her D.E.F.E.N.C.E ~M-E-C-H-A-N-I-S-M//
//she was bruised like the roses, BUT //shines like the SUN..flowers.
I'm talking about the days We were together.. Illusioned feeling of togetherness forever . I'm dreaming the moments I talked with the person You was. The days have died.. Than why not the F E E L I N G//
The lame mind's cry can't be snubbed, It was blinging in sleep . Taking walking dream fulfillment . Nostalgia can't be B U R I E D// Lasting impressions on heart are alive.
Nuclear weapons will help? The body will end again not the feeling. Serial killer, M E M O R I E S. I burn , I burry, I forget! Mission I M P O S S I B L E //
Are you L I S T E N I N G!? Eyes still gazing // Heart is E M P T Y // Hard to erase something had so much to // R E M E M B E R //
They are far, B U T Left the memories // Some nightmares.. Some delusions...some hope
This is how Life goes on??? This is how it's going//
you met me at the crossroad, with my feet dragging me to the graveyard (where I stood to bury my past) and yours walking you towards the pyre of burnt memories and a longing crushed to ashes.
you smiled straight at me, with an agony that wrecked my being with disquiet as I made my way across the uncharted territory of fragmented hope and a desire left abandoned.
on the fifth day of summer, you told me how love was a word you couldn't enunciate anymore. With guilt flowing crimson in your veins, you couldn't unravel him from the fabric of your universe. How everything was drenched in his essence, hollowed out to make room for his memories.
After all you pronounced his name as salvation. His arms, an escape from the ragged edges of reality. His voice, a souvenir saved from the callousness of time. Time that purloined everything you kept close to your heart. His memories, an unspent ray of light to pull out in times of endless darkness.
The air in the cafè smelt of longing and the breaths sat on my tired lungs like charred ash. I told you with all these years of disdain falling effortlessly down my spine; life hung around me in the air, like an appointment I had forgotten about.
With the remnant of your heart resting on your palm, when I tried to reduce the space between us into ten digits stretching from 0 to 9, you laughed. It seemed that you were rather terrible at numbers.
today, your memory floats over me, an unfurling wave of dull agony, and I wonder if you think of me in moments that sit on our frail existences like burdens meant to passed on.
On the fragility of your fingers, can you measure the distance between us now? Or the pulsating rush at which crimson gushes out of these wounds you've inflicted on the half of my heart that's left? Can you count the number of times I sigh in a stretch of 60 minutes? And can you still lay us down, scattered apart, to make out how much of us is yours, and what is left of me?
for on the twenty-seventh day of winter, you left unannounced in the middle of the night. With a piercing ache tied to my feet, and an expanse of ruins that appears endless.
for it seems that you exhumed me only to bury my soul even deeper.
for this emptiness is so full of itself that it can just be filled with more emptiness.
for words taste like sawdust and remorse in my mouth now.
for I sit dissolved in stagnation for aeons now.
with my eyelashes gazing into the mundanity like question marks. tell me, where did we go wrong? why wasn't love ever enough?
my name is a call you don't answer anymore. we are fading away into nothingness with each sunset that caresses the horizon. this ache is a labour of such fragility, it withers at my touch.
For love, you were rather terrible at numbers and they should've told you - two halves can only make one whole.
- Kainat // of shattered halves and infinite numbers ______________
*Would take me an year to return back properly* Love me like you do! Coz I will still love you the same!
Might have happened with almost all the students, or might be with none! But happened with me, only till I figured out my real vision and the genuine reason of fighting for my dreams!
HAPPY FRIENDSHIP DAY ANGELS! This time I won't write any cheesy lines..But something to set your soul on fire. For watching you grow and accomplish is what I love!
But what 'bout the old one? Oh...Let it be...Now let's make a fresh and new one. And start it all over again, thought a student after he failed to follow his time table...That he, with full determination and enthusiasm had set a fortnight before! And a new one was made. But guess what, he failed again. He could not follow a simple time table... It's not lack of enthusiasm..It's the blur vision, it's the lack of awareness, lack of fire.
Often, we try to accomplish a dream or goal but why we want that we never think of that, The REASON! Some might say, for money, some might say for fame...And still that doesn't sets your soul on fire? Yeah, absolutely...Because fame and money is not all that soul wants...it wants something real and once once you figure it out, Trust me, nothing can stop you till you're on the top! Let me clear it in a sentence. It's not anything big... What I'm trying to say is...Find your PURPOSE! A genuine one, a true one, that pushes you, that pulls you! Once you make it clear in mind why you want it, then it won't matter how hard it takes..You can give it all, sweat, blood and whatever it takes! So darling, instead of setting a new time table, Write down your visions and purpose, on paper, in pen, in handwritten! You won't need a new time table thereafter! ASK YOURSELF WHY YOU WANT IT!
Until this D-A-T-E My Poetries were Virgin Dressed up into 8-9 layers of protection, 15:09 -When my poetries stumbled Upon the Dark and Mysterious poetries Of Yours -They started walking in the Direction of your footsteps with Your Poetries walking In front and mine At behind and They Gasped looking At the Speed your words were travelling And Once they Reached the Doorsteps Of Your diary -Your poetries asked mine To Enter the Crispy house of Emotions And My poetries did unaware of the Emotional Trauma they were about to dance through.
Of How my words surrendered their soul, In the Hands of Metaphors you poetries held And the Ones they tagged as crown in their poetries, Of how under that Dusky shelter, The Layers of heart were Taken off With the Promises (That will never be fulfilled) And the Confessions (That were never true) Of how the words started to Shrink And Tried to settle in some corner of the pages Scared and Feeling Loved at the Same time Of how they Confessed under the stars and moon That were pasted on the pages of your diary To keep an Illusion of L-O-V-E. Of how the Truth written N-E-V-E-R/ L-I-E On the Top of that Grey page Lied again and again On the face and When My poetries turn back To their original positions after Trying to Heal the Pain of Grey scars.
Of How the Kisses full of love turned aggresive With Scarlet Queen find its real home- On the Lips of poetries,Of How the Hugs full of care Turned the Back into the hues of Dark blue marks,Of How the Pages turned Numb from the Darkness your every single word held, Of How The Eyes of your poetries Filled with Petals of lust-The Ones that Claims to hold the Ocean of love,Of How the Poetries hands Tried to captivate the Injured wrists With a bundle of Rope,Of How the Nails ripped the skin on the arms, On the Legs that never stood after that, On the Stomach that never Spoke after that, On the Back that Has been Numb from years, On the Face that's been burning from ages now.
Night passed but the days after the torture That you claim as love -My Poetries tried To drown into the White liquid termed "Poison" My poetries tried to strangle themselves With the Nib of My senseless pen, My Poetries tried to jump in the Ocean Of Melancholy but teh attempt failed.
-My Poetries are trying to survive, Because You killed them When they were living.