a silhouette of someone you know

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  • _serenity 3w

    @writersnetwork thank you for the ❤️ #love

    // Lines are from the song halka halka by Rahat Fateh Ali Khan

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    /jism se rooh ka ik safar ho tum
    aakhiri saans mein ik umar ho tum/

    The sun rests behind the merging
    thunderstorm of your eyes,
    with swaying palm trees in mine.
    You are looking at the moonrise,
    and I am looking at you,
    you know it, you still let me.
    In the back of my mind
    I am crocheting this moment
    into a memory, into a poem
    so that one day I'll sing it,
    like a melody, like a melancholy,
    depending upon the answer
    you give me once I divulge the truth,
    like fallen chandeliers in a dungeon,
    like bloodless swords in a museum,
    like abandoned art in a haunted house,
    like grief stuffed in a graveyard;
    But it shall not be today,
    that I either become another
    forgotten lover, forgotten poet,
    or become yours, muse and more,
    So I stow my feelings deep into
    the anxious womb of my fears,
    praying that one day maybe at
    some 10:10, 11:11 or 12:12
    you'll wish that our lips crash
    and never part henceforth.

    /dunia ki bheed mein mujhko bas tu dikhe
    kya main tumko dikhu? Kaho na tum/


  • _serenity 3w

    / lines are from the song dildaara

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    /Ratti bhar ka jag sara
    tere nazro-o-kadam pe sab vara/

    The spring sun shines above our heads, while you clumsily paint a portrait of me sitting on this bench, a bit away from yours. A fluttering butterfly sits on your cheek, and then on my lips as if telling us to love each other, infinitely. I wish your fingers were tucking my hair behind my ear instead of drawing them on the canvas. Vulnerable poems birth inside my heart, beating the melodies of mesmerizing love. I wish my palms were holding your face instead of scraping the tarnished wood. And then your eyes catch mine, looking at you with admiration. I wish eyes could speak instead of just staring at each other for a moment, which feels like an unending river of love, flowing between yours and mine. You sigh as if saying that you will name me everytime someone asks you about love, you will name me everytime someone asks you about a forever. I wish you could have said that out loud, sitting nearer to me, holding me in your arms. I am climbing up the stairs of patience till you complete your painting with hues stolen from my gardenias and carnations. I wish I could write a poem behind your canvas so that both our hearts could get framed as one, as each other's muses.

    /Tu manzil hai aur tu hi
    us manzil ke aage ka rasta/


  • _serenity 4w

    /I was handed a pen to wake up from this haunting reality and create a better ending for myself./

    The poets lying in graves, bereft of skin and their poems shriek at me like the danger alarms. Words slipping out of my quill on paper parchements are flying away beyond the horizon changing hues from black to transparent.

    /I was handed a pen to muffle down my screams and bleed in blue in order to lie myself better./

    The rumbling thunderbolt falls upon my head, making me confess for all the sins I did (not) commit. My fingertips are lifeless, caressing a broken quill, for a fugitive attempt towards metaphorical blasphemy.

    /I was handed a pen to capture hope on the golden days to gulp them down on the bleak ones./

    The broken church bell knells as grey clouds cover my eyes and I approach apocalypse. The domed hall is spinning, the staircase is falling down but my wounds are healing. The inscriptions on my tongue are burning, making me remember that poison of poetry is a way to breathe.

    /I was handed a pen to live beyond death and memory./

    _serenity// I was handed a pen to save myself and the world.

  • _serenity 4w

    @writersnetwork cliche ugh
    / Lines are not mine

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    To the one I almost said i-love-you,

    /I wish I could leave you my love,
    but my heart is a mess/

    Dreams and wishes.
    My lips take your name every time I visit the temple and mother tells me to make a wish. Your name is my prayer. Your thoughts put me to sleep everynight. You rescue me from the demons in my nightmares. Your eyes are my fireflies.

    /And my lullaby is your sigh/

    Moon and your face.
    I talk to the moon about you on days I am too exhausted to even cry. I replay the moments I spent with you. I remember you vividly from the another lifetime. I paint your face in my poems everytime a pencil gets caught between my fingers. Your name is what I say and write instead of the word 'love'.

    /And I can feel it when you cry/

    You are my mirror.
    I see you smiling beside me whenever I look into the mirror. I keep staring at it for hours. The candles burning in my room have your scent. In the novels I read, I write your name. I write you letters everyday, the ones that remain hidden and unsent. Because you know everything. Already. My heart is a home to my love for you that I'm waiting to pour onto you. Waiting for the right time.

    /It would be a privilege to have my heart broken by you/

    Even if you are not
    my soulmate,
    I love you, purposely.

    Yours till the end,

  • _serenity 4w

    #found @writersnetwork

    Tw self harm.

    I write as if to save somebody's life. Probably my own. Life is a kind of madness that death makes. Long live the dead because we live in them.
    - Clarice Lispector

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    My scars heat up,
    molten iron drips,
    instead of blood,
    Sweat seeps inside
    and the salt chuckles
    at my painful expression.

    Anger revolts out
    from my mouth
    as numb silence.
    My hands burn
    from the cinders of
    my flaming heart.

    I cut my throat wide
    lost is my sanity,
    lost is my truth,
    lost is my poetry.
    My bones melt
    into darkness,
    into madness,
    into stillness.

    _serenity // you cannot hurt me if I kill myself.

  • _serenity 5w

    I smell the sweet coffee stain on your nude shade collar just above your neck scarred with bitter curses from your childhood. I put my palm against yours, nearly touching, and then filling the gaps between your fingers with love they were yearning for. My fingertips slowly caress your knuckles and poetry flows into the distance between us as if Neruda singing sonnet XVII for you and me.

    A visceral ache in your heart is numbing my ears. I push myself closer to that beating melancholy such that yours and mine beat together, in sync. Our masks of cold hearts and forbidden love slip beneath mingling breaths and fragile yet unending stares. You tell me it is a crime to cry in the rain alone. You tell me it is a sin to fall in love alone. I tell you nothing. I am a poet of nothingness. You are my muse.

    The cursive lies slipping out of your tongue into my mouth sound to me like love and I reciprocate. We both are liars tonight. We both are lovers tonight. And god's favourite tragedy is forever, that you never asked to give to me, that I won't ever let you complete. We are bound by the promise of sharp pain. We are bound by the promise of withering poetry. We are bound.

    _serenity // a wish to be wounded by your love again.

  • _serenity 5w

    Twilight sweeps into the cracks of my skin, pungent like the scars of the moon. I mix my tears in the palette of dry kohl and line it beneath my worrisome eyes. My childhood was a sweet lie trapped under the sugar of ice candies and picture perfect springs. My home is a deep fissure with no ends to the darkness stuffed in its corners. My empty arms are like abandoned hallways, waiting for a caress, a mere touch, to fall apart into someone beautiful with a crooked smile.

    Stars climb down into the fragments of poems lying in my throat. My teeth are tainted with sour coloured hopes, withering down like autumn leaves. My father is a merciless man but then what does that make me? The victim or the crime? Since nineteen nights I ask myself the same question and the answer is an echo of my mother's love and affection, that is deeper than any wounds they inflicted upon me. I live a tragic truth mourning the death of those fireflies inside my lungs, while I'm struggling to breathe, every night.

    Midnight paints itself upon the walls of my dungeon like heart, oozing out anxiety more than blood. The man walking behind me in the street wears the same anklets as my past and paranoia. This ache beating in my chest is an artefact buried beside the pleasant memories in the graveyard of my encephalon. Lying on the cold marble floor and lying to my afraid self, I count the number of eyelashes and the dandelions I blew, asking for better days. But my life is still like an incomplete and unending poem, that the poet wished to continue in a joyful manner, but couldn't.

    Dawn kisses my lips instead of eternal sleep again. This is not my death, yet another funeral of miserable hopes starving inside my stomach. The clock sings in melancholic beats of time and repentance flows in my veins. My fingertips are blessed with the flaw of burning down everything I touch. So what does that make me? The sun or the sin? There is no answer to this, there never will be. This poem is a dissolution of all my secrets that once deserved a home.

    I fail again.

    _serenity // attempts to sleep and hurt myself.

  • _serenity 5w

    #cliche @writersnetwork thank you for the prompt.

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    my lips crash against yours,
    entwined as one, as us,
    fireflies wash away gloom,
    shells shine on the shore,
    sun bathes into the sea.

    your eyes open the
    chambers of my heart,
    lost hopes return home,
    teardrops turn into lilies,
    serene melodies of love,
    floating fragrantly in the air.

    my hands in your hands
    no space betwixt the gaps,
    graveyards become gardens,
    demons dance in gowns,
    you are no less me,
    than I myself am,
    I am no less you,
    than you yourself are.


  • _serenity 6w

    #twelve @writersnetwork aha thank you so much bud����

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    your love
    of my heart,

    _serenity // a forever

  • _serenity 6w

    #twelve #wod @writersnetwork a �� for you too

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    twelve candles flicker
    inside my soul,
    eleven torments fade
    one remains eternal.

    _serenity // a hollowness