Tag: Beauty

You will love…

Four walls, a number of bricks, and here you sit in the middle of this room finding solace in your own flesh and love in the mirrors. Mirrors, though, seldom lie. They may lie about a few harsh truths, though ‘lack of love’ stands high on the list. You stand in front of this silvered piece of carefully cut glass, staring at every part … Read More You will love…

You will heal…

Glass boxes don’t sing lore to the warriors of freedom when the skies fall and the waters rise. But, skies don’t fall and waters don’t rise in vain; they sob in vile. There are a number of things that may conjure disdain into this world, but no other blade yearns to be struck with thunder as much as the one sitting on the hilt … Read More You will heal…

Hiraeth

Water flows through creeks and crevices of withered mountains when it rains over their pride ridden heads. Heads, as they say, are meant to be held high; necks, as we have seen, break under the curse of ego sometimes. In the end, if you don’t step over this grandeur and pay courtesy to love, a weak neck will make you fall into it someday. … Read More Hiraeth

clichés.

It is a fresh sunny day. You are strolling on this narrow street beside a park, listening to children giggling, riding high on their summer spirits. The grass is tender. It is like a newborn baby that just made its way out of its mother’s womb; too scared to face the world, but too pure to feel the fear. It is the peak of … Read More clichés.

Cages…

Our history has known cages; Of all kinds and characters. The one with bars of gold And the others with floors of dirt. The ones which held the innocent And the others which freed the ghouls. But not very often, When you walk through the pages Of your own history, You land up Imprisoned. Imprisoned behind the walls of Some doomed silvered glasses. Imprisoned … Read More Cages…

Broken Cursives…

Have you ever lost your heart in the hems of broken cursives? It’s a mystic realm that draws you in… like a black hole is known to snatch the world away. To the people of stones and metal, it may seem like forbidden magic when a poet holds your hand and walks you through the dark. They chant to the silent tunes of truths … Read More Broken Cursives…

When Jasmines begin to smell like Lavenders!

Love stories! They are like broken glass beads thrown ashore to the dead sea! You, as a lone bystander, may happen to step upon the sharp ones every other fortnight! Then, you may bleed a little and your lips may sin to mumble a soft curse at their beauty. When that happens… don’t fret away from taking another step! In every love story, there … Read More When Jasmines begin to smell like Lavenders!

To the one who broke my broken heart again,

You know, our world has lost its music to the broken records of numb melancholy! Our hearts look like abandoned graves with dead corpses of beautiful love stories buried underneath. Those despised gravestones glow at night, and one of them grows a tiny pink flower every time it rains! Do you know how much it pains to be the only ray of life in … Read More To the one who broke my broken heart again,

Cassettes and wine!

  You were that lazy sip of wine under the beaming silver of falling stars. You would swirl on my skin, tingle my tongue and tease my throat till my lips would break into a dimming smile and my eyes would spill love.⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣My fingers traced… they traced the chiseled edges of your jaw just like they run over the cracked hem of my wine … Read More Cassettes and wine!

Bone china

These days, I find myself swooning over lazy afternoon naps. I may have found a strange solace in the cruel lucidity of my dreams. Well, it’s strange how sleep is my refuge in ‘our’ memories, away from the worn relics. So, this afternoon, after I was done meandering in my beautiful dreams, I woke up… I woke up to the taste of honey, dancing … Read More Bone china

Dear ‘home’

We live in a lost world. We are wanderers, miserable vagabonds! We feed on anger and breathe out fires, then cry at the sight of burnt cities and homeless hearts. We gulp tears and our eyes bleed, then we frown at the sight of spilled gore. We smoke ashes, bathe in swamps, wear mere shreds of envy and then flaunt our prides. Such is … Read More Dear ‘home’

Masquerade

Studded with gems, crafted with gold. A lustre so bright… the moon held an intent to conspire the world against it. A smile so kind… the ink stopped bleeding praises for a mother’s heart. Eyes so deep… no man could quieten his curiosity to explore the mystic realm behind. No sculptor’s hands would have dreamt of carving a nose so sharp. The brow screamed … Read More Masquerade