winter_dreams

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  • winter_dreams 14h

    You were the autumn wind
    Brewing the winter coffee,
    The aureate aroma is still lingering
    In the snow of the fall.

    ©winter_dreams

  • winter_dreams 17h

    OF SLURRED TALES


    The full moon schelps the balcony
    To the sky and the song hearkens me.
    You flump on the couch in the living room
    And I see you past the clouds
    With a cursed liquid in a glass
    You don't match my eyes
    And when you do
    They don't belong to you
    As much as they did a few tik-toks back.

    The crescents, waxing and waning
    Cut me some slack
    For you enshroud behind the wardrobe door,
    Take a shot of some wicked liquor
    And slur to bed in a heartbeat.
    The three taps of feet
    And your rhythmic breaths later
    I purloin a 100 from your pocket
    And pray tomorrow a bottle in that
    Mystique cupboard will disappear.

    The night moon was competent,
    It was half black and half white.
    The midnight called for your words
    And you slurred them and told me
    How I'll look breathtaking in a wedding dress someday
    And fell asleep on the couch.
    The 21 steps to your room with your hands around my shoulder
    And your slurs that I learned by heart, a first quarter heart.

    The third quarter knocked on the door of the stunning lady that came every night
    With semi circled white earnings and some silver freckles.
    You took shot after shot, tossed the food away.
    The salt is never accurate, you said,
    I don't mean anything to you, you said,
    I can leave today and you won't tell the threshold to hold me back you said
    But I still took 21 steps and wrapped you in the bedsheets of the bed, half white, half black.

    I direct my footsteps to my room,
    Somedays I'm tired of the gibberish talks
    And hallways reeking of alcohol.
    I heard the screeching of tables
    And the bookshelves of fables fell down in the dusty corner
    No one to pick it up, or pick you up from the floor.
    I sit next to you, bandage your bloody nose
    You tell me you are fine
    And I looked into your oblivious eyes.
    Maybe you won't come to my graduation
    Or drive me on the first day at work
    And won't remember my birthdays.
    So I took the 21 steps with love
    One last time.

    And today is the new moon
    That sucked all the brightness from my heart
    And from your eyes and evanesced.
    I stand on some balcony
    And moon won't take me
    To the sky to jump on constellations
    And change the galaxies
    To peep in your living room from the clouds.
    The stars twinkle but don't reflect your face,
    You preferred an abandoned corner
    With a glass of some cursed dry gin.

    -Juhi

    ----------------------
    Alcohol addiction is something that can destroy you completely and has some deep deep effects on your loved ones. Don't be an alcoholic, please.
    ----------------------

    My submission to the #Moon_LS_chal by the amazing @laughing_soul ma'am.


    #pod #mirakee #oblivious #writersnetwork

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    Of Slurred Tales

    ©winter_dreams

  • winter_dreams 1d

    Half a lover's heart is crystal, aqueous
    The other a batter of snow, arid
    And the glass sundering them, fissured.

    ©winter_dreams

  • winter_dreams 2d

    Sometimes the black is too pure
    Sometimes the white is too colourful
    And then, the grey is a chaotic hue.


    #dormant #mirakee #writersnetwork

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    The Waft That Belongs Nowhere

    I'll never belong somewhere, will I?
    The wind mumbles.
    I fetch your scent on my way
    And a few flecks from mire,
    One too many to count out loud
    And apprise the oceans.
    And you say air is light.

    You accept zephyrs,
    Same way as you accept the venomous syllables swathed in a lovely tune
    But you can't accept the gales,
    They don't feed you lies
    Because only truth is that forthright.

    I've carried all,
    But who will discern the ME in them?
    Why don't my tears count as a reason to console?
    Why can't I be prepossessing enough to be appreciated with the mizzle?

    Where do I belong?
    In the deserts of Thar?
    That propel me when I'm searing?
    I still travel happily to the ocean
    To be accepted by the Arabian Sea.
    But I can't stay, can't belong,
    Can I?

    Strip me of petrichor,
    Strip me of seasoning,
    Strip me of fragrance,
    Strip me of reasoning.

    Let me find one if you can't be my home,
    At least emancipate me, let me flow.
    Tell the clock to be dormant for a while
    I need the delta of confidence
    When the rivers of mayhem
    Meet that of desolation.

    ©winter_dreams

  • winter_dreams 2d

    Rainbows on every
    blink in the
    Silver eyes of storm.

    ©winter_dreams

  • winter_dreams 2d

    @thewiltedflower I hope you complete reading it now. ❤️

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    And I know
    Sometimes we feel like cutting that call
    Or snapping finger to disappear from here.
    Those texts whose reply you can't fathom
    Because you've known this for a long time
    You can't be you, infront of your phone or facades
    You need that afternoon slap of reality
    To come out on some lazy Sunday
    To make you realize, magically learn
    You can't be you many times.
    Someone once told me I'm lucky if I have even one person with whom words can flow without the fear of judgement
    And I've made peace with the fact that I don't have one.
    I'm difficult to say the least,
    Have you seen me at the moment when I'm most angry,
    You won't. I'll be sitting in some abandoned corner
    Crying the tears of frustration and choking desperately the snarls begging to come out.
    Have you seen me at the most vulnerable times?
    You won't. I'll be sitting under the fan, shaking with unshed tears and heart filled with jello.
    Have you ever heard from me when I'm in a chaos?
    You won't. Because I'm so out of words I don't find my voice.
    Have you even seen me go possessive over someone whose trying to go away?
    You won't. It is way too much for me to speak out until it isn't
    And then I don't recognize my voice.
    I'm difficult, especially when doubts become a part of me.
    No one will ever tell you,
    But everyone has a facade excluding you
    So buy, create, copy or paint
    You are too raw to shout out to the whole world what is inside your heart
    Because people won't always sew your wounds
    Some are waiting to paint beautiful paintings in red
    And you are too raw to not give a care
    But honey, you have to.
    Maybe one day you'll realize
    Anything that costs you your peace of mind
    Is way too expensive
    And the balance in your heart is in negative.
    //girl in pajamas //

    ©winter_dreams

  • winter_dreams 4d

    Have you ever seen water?
    The water that accumulates the vessel
    You force it into without a frown on forehead
    And splashes giggles.

    Have you seen water,
    Running down the busy rivers
    And holding the stagnant one.
    Flowing hot and cold
    Carrying the slurs of mud
    And the million-crystal sand.

    Have you seen the vapours water create?
    The one that can burn your skin
    If you come too close
    Or bless you with your favorite petrichor
    If you envelope the virtue of patience.

    Have you seen the rain?
    How it soothes the burning ache
    Without thinking about where it will rest.
    Falling for your arrival, falling for your departure,
    Falling to let you breathe, to capture the newfound bliss.

    Have you seen snow?
    The way it hugs you
    When you allow your arms
    To rest on the peak of vulnerability
    And let the white ice to embrace you.
    You tell it to melt away
    On the first ray of sunshine
    And watch how the transparent liquid
    Still hides your secret
    When it's no longer solid strong.

    Have you seen tears?
    How you curse their flow
    For being too emotional
    Or for the fading footsteps
    Or accompanying your journey of alone.

    You beat the water out with soap
    And invite sun to dry the clothes
    Yet you sprinkle some droplets on them
    When you need to crisp your shirt under iron.

    And sometimes I feel like water.
    Sliding happily in their make-believe vessels.
    Carrying sand and mud on the way
    And somewhere leaving a delta on yellow papers.
    Being the mighty steam or mightier fall,
    Being snow, and creating avalanches on mountains and letting a part of myself flow.
    Being blamed for causing red, puffy eyes,
    Being used and removed from systems
    So frequently.

    But the worth of water won't decrease
    Just because of a flowing feeling of doubt.
    Someday when the heart will be heavy
    I'll freeze inside your vessels
    And sparkle like ice.

    (On a very important note, plant trees.
    If you can't, at least plant a seedling in your balcony.)

    -Juhi


    #mirakee #writersnetwork #pod

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    So take aim and fire away
    I have never been so wide awake
    No, Nobody but me can keep me safe
    And I'm on my way.
    - Alan Walker, Sabrina Carpenter, Farruko.

  • winter_dreams 1w

    Colours, speak.
    Colours, listen.
    Colours, gaze.
    But dare you paint the rainbow.

    #mirakee #writersnetwork

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    Faux Hues and Crumbled Petals

    You knew the day those broken words
    Of famous verses that felt stupid to you
    Started making sense,
    You knew it in the shimmering of your eyes
    You feel more now.

    You see those indifferent hands on the metros, trains, roads
    And think, do their eyes really connect to the brain
    Or are they blessed enough with a black hole to swallow every ounce of emotion.

    Then you stare at your hands,
    Uneven lines, seeking comfort in skin
    You know will not touch hearts, not yours for sure.
    You won't have a balloon to shine on your skin, oozing confidence
    Until and unless your lungs breathe the helium too.

    You knew that white can still cover black
    But you chose to throw the water colours out on your own.
    You need the pale lavenders to be purple
    Inside and out
    And your leftover pastels are just enough for today.

    You need to have an artist on the bedsheets at night
    To colour your true colour
    And hide you from the stoic pastels
    Whose essence asks you to take a breath and learn
    And you borrow colours from their artificial rainbows, enough for today's fill.

    You tell the bedsheet to throw superficial shades instead of petals
    You need to make it to tomorrow,
    You have promised the broken words, you'll come with faux hues and crumbled petals
    But you will come to tomorrow.

    ©winter_dreams

  • winter_dreams 1w

    इट स्टार्टस विद यू |

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    हमने मुखोटे पहनना सीख लिया है, ऐ वक़्त
    अब हमें बदलते ज़माने की फ़िक्र नहीं |
    तुम बगावत से मुह फेर लो
    अब तो जंग का मौसम आने वाला है |

    नोटों से जाकर कह दो
    खुरदुरे हाथों को सिक्कों ने सहेजा हैं |
    कह दो कमीज़ की गिरेबान से
    सलवार और कुर्ते ने कलफ चढ़ाना सीख लिया है |

    आटे वाली हाथों की लकीरों को याद दिलाना
    रोटी की मिठास में इज्ज़त भी बेलनी है।
    काली खदानों की आँखों को भी बताना
    हीरा मिल जाए तो ढाई घड़ी मुस्का लें |

    कमरे में छुपे अक्षर, हवा ढूँढ लेगी
    पर होसला खान से ढूंँढकर खुद लाना होगा।
    खाने में नमक की कमी पूरी दुनिया बता देगी
    पर सब्ज़ी के साथ मोल खुदको परोसना होगा |

    ©winter_dreams

  • winter_dreams 1w

    Sometimes tragedies don't complete themselves, and we are so desperate for an end , we ourselves become one.

    #mirakee #writersnetwork

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    DEATH DRINKS CAPPUCCINO

    Scene 1 : A girl standing in the restroom of hospital , hands on sink, with confused tears, not knowing whether to evaporate or condense.

    -------

    "Why?" I ask the form occupying the space next to her in the empty room.
    They raise their eyebrow.
    " WHY? WHY NOT ME? WHY THEM? SPEAK UP!"I shout.
    They smirk, "It is more painful for you to watch the blood trickling down the aisles than being the one flowing it, it ends all too soon, just not for you , all the blood sucked out and the adrenaline rush makes it a little less painful to flow the blood, ending it in seconds, but the mental image has a life longer than dust, right ? "
    " Please.. Take me instead to the darkness. I swear my corpse won't protest. I don't worth a dime in this market compared to them. I don't want to walk in a night after loosing them. Spare me the nightmares.. Here, give me a blade, lets make a trade? My life for theirs? "
    Their eye softened for a second or maybe it was my imagination because they spoke casually, " This is not the way I work. My black clothing hides the rainbow and storm alike for a reason. I'm a slave of time. Go out, meet them, you still have time. I have a lot of enemies that will tell you how to banish me. I won't tell you when I'll leave or with whom, but I'm here till then , looming in your brain, mixing my sour strawberries in your dreams."
    They said and left.
    And I ran, from the hospital to every place I thought I can, and undo the past 23 days. I met libraries, telling them to envelope me in cellulose. Libraries never asked until when, just gave me book, "Death drinks Cappuccino"
    And the black form returned to read me the prologue.
    "I drink Cappuccino and never sleep. Dreams are my companion, maybe, in parallel world. But here I come to take souls from wepping ashes."
    I ran to music and it played all the melancholic tunes I recoreded. The sound of doctors words, the probability of lives like a math question, the sound of uncountable sobs.
    And I thrash on the bed, every night.
    "MAKE IT STOP, PLEASE. NOT NOW. NOT TODAY." she shouts to the black form,
    Nothing they hear, nothing they see. Just standing still, stoic, afraid their motion will disturb the order of air.

    __________

    Scene 2 : 1 year and 351 days later. 1 a.m.
    A girl sitting in the middle of bed, untamed hair, looking at nothing in particular in the distance.

    ------

    "Why don't you sleep now? Hasn't your wish been granted. Don't the reports say they will be fine." A small voice asks.

    "Why are you still here, tied to my walls then?
    Why can't I shake you off my brain? Why do you come visit me every once in a while for a cup of coffee , with capes of fear and a few document lines reading 'It can repeat, please come visit the white walls every 6 months and anticipate in fear what life will hold.'
    Why? If you didn't even knock the door,
    Why is it that I still answer?
    Why I fear every uneven breath or skipped heartbeats. Why can't I see the world without your scent reeking the soil again? Why can't I undo the effects, when there were no ashes? Why do I feel my feet tremble on the way to graveyard, when I haven't dug a grave? The doctors said it was okay again, I took them home, but why do I feel, some part of me is still trapped in that hospital washroom? Why do I recognize the fear in eyes or the smell of smiles, that aren't genuine?
    Why do you get to control my heartbeats at night
    And till when will you be allowed before I take back the control? "I ask quietly and look around. No one. No forms.

    And no answer.
    There never will be.
    It's all in the brain, they say.
    Some strokes of leftover blacks
    And no answers.

    (Sometimes tragedies don't complete themselves, and we are so desperate for an end , we ourselves become one.)

    ©winter_dreams