The remains of my Heart.

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By the time I am perfect,I shall be in pieces bifurcated in millions of skin;

And then my remains will be imperfect for you,for my divisions will not be in accordance of your mundane expectations;

The thoughts have started already to torment me in the hatred I have for my presence.

The shimmer seems vanishing now,in the lost desire for solace.



My pillow talks.


The marks of water still exists from the last night on my white sheet pillow,

That pillow heard me struggling last night,it watched everything quietly,absorbed brilliantly!

Now,as I watch that sheet,it reckons the grappling that existed between my body and the pillow,mouth faced towards it,screams,shouts lost in infinite transparent moment.


~MY VALIANT SOUL.

Untraceable.

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The exotic mind that you loved,the charm of my heart that you carried;

shall be in the oblivion sky,someday,

lost like scattered clouds;

The naivety of my soul,the pureness of my child-like laughter;

shall be hidden,somewhere in the dark rocks;

so deep and exceptional;

that it will become untraceable to find the original carvings of my caricature.


The Black Quandary

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The black curls, oh the resemblance to the night

clings to her forehead, distraught,

like the spider’s web shambled,

crooked,   rubbing the forehead like the harsh waters 

rubbing the grey stone, by the riverside.

Polishing it maybe, intriguing,

forlorn tales hit back, yet again

saying the clandestine, monotonous, words,

one by one, the whole nine yards.

Magic, Stealth, vigour, 

anonymous all the emotions,

wrapped in the grey blanket

to  the body to cover the bitter marks,

The black curls, congruence to the pain,

symmetrical to the thorns,

playing angles, all the way

Oh, these black curls falls the way

it did that day.

Conundrum, play.

 

 

 

With a pinch of faith.

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Hush you grey clouds,

today the waters shall abate,

like a thunder you say,vapid butterflies

shall fly away

free from the earth

somewhere they make merry

Hush you insensate emotions

my sweet canvass awaits for me

with some bubbles of faith,

and some roses of hope

I shall re-colour you grey cloud,

with the deepest of pure tremor.



 

If..it’s Blank?..

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The bottom and the rim of my heart is blank,

no tides or waves..

not even monsoon peeps the heart,

the conjectures doesn’t smell fresh,

name it stale,

name it hideous,

nothing alluring,

like it’s all plain,

and black.

The high spirits,still linger,

through the dark holes,

through the black lines,

only to know,

will the blankness still persist more.


 

Your part of Lie.

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There are moments,when your heart stops responding.Moments when you hate the mere faces you see around,specially the masked one.The feeling is intense when the emotions you have finds no partner for love-making,or to be heard.Like a twig that falls from a tree but nobody cared enough or picked it up,healed it.That twig is all stale and just lying nearby its parent tree..Yes it actually happens.

I feel it.Like things choking and not coming back to me.Suffocating it might be.For sure it is profound.

I question my existence is a reality or a myth for my thoughts seem myths to other.So what better I become now?A myth yet again?Perplexing conjecture become the hard,raw truth at times..you see it and don’t want to accept it… yet you know,there it is..your part of lie.Sore and naked.



 

Waves and sunshine.

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How obnoxious our minds get at times,when our stomach aches nothing but pain,how crucial life gets to see a turbulence in our entire mind.Emotions get wrapped up as a package of miseries,unspoken hate and more worries.Those time takes us back to square one,where the roads once were bruised just like our heart.The soreness bites our little grinning thoughts that might have appeared through our smile,yes,it happens.

What do we do next?

There have been desolations since centuries after bloodshed,wars and this time the havoc comes when the peace in our heart is blacked out just like the charcoal.The brutality of times can never be said,there shall come,kill your innocuous soul and move on,it’s us who needs to erase the past,the past of hatred…the past of scratches,for there comes a beaming sunshine and a splendid view that shall scintillate our heartbeat and give us that bounce and once stolen thunder.

And my dear,that beam is still in you so sparkle more and unravel your solitude once again.



I Am, All That.

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Like knife,I appear

sharp-edged,brutal,

so uncoil me only to see

million of stars hidden within

Like an insipid soul I become

so unwrap me

only to see a cryptic haze of dainty-like rose petals

Like unfathomable dust,unclear

I become.

So rekindle me,ignite me with 

meticulous storm

and then you shall see

how unflinching,

transparent ,

I am.



 

How hard is to be satisfied?

Okay,so if we have everything still we crave for something better,unsatified!If we score 99%,we crave for that 1%,unsatisfied.If we have all the apples of life,we still will compare our lives with others,whether we check instagram,facebook..as soon as we see others making us feel bad by posting their happening lives,we become unsatisfied.Why?

Why this happens we can’t take elation in our own surroundings?Why post everything on social media like others?Is that the real way to show we are happy?We need to let peace kiss us,when it actually wants to.

We need to be satisfied in what we have,if it’s hard,we should practice it,till we excel in it.

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