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  • rusha_c 15w

    I have never known the address of love, the metal highways didn't show me the way, nor the unpaved muddy roads of the village. My reason in faith never wobbled though, when each and every road lead me to heartbreak, tears and melancholy. My resolve never broke.

    Then, to think of it really, I have never really hoped for the address of love, it is always been a paradise existing in my poetries.

    ©rusha_c

  • rusha_c 15w

    #start #wod

    Thanks for making my day more special with this unexpected repost @writersnetwork . ��

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    Flowers wither, wither and fall,
    leaving remnants of
    dried crumbling petals,
    like some forbidden
    memory of the past
    where hope bloomed,
    their beauty once lured
    optimists around the world,
    their infectious presence
    full of delight and joy,
    their fragrance
    full of life,
    now the ashes of
    their glory
    decorates the crown
    of pessimists,
    crushing hopes of
    the hopeful ones.

    ©rusha_c

  • rusha_c 16w

    Tell me why I have to be specific about things not general?

    @zeba_gulsum ( a question for you bro...��)

    __________________________________________
    #tell

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    Tell me
    how to sway mindlessly
    with humming zephyr?
    Tell me
    how to whisper sweet nothings
    to blooming lilacs?
    Tell me
    how to sing gracefully with the
    buzzing bees?
    Tell me
    how to embrace the melancholic
    grey clouds?
    Tell me
    how to caress the ethereal
    rainbow?
    Tell me
    how to run along the burbling
    brook?
    Tell me
    how to paint abstracts like the
    ever-changing sky?
    Tell me
    how to lose myself in the
    symphony of nature?

    ©rusha_c

  • rusha_c 16w

    Grieving souls are in search of peace,
    hold them tight and let time heal.

    ©rusha_c

  • rusha_c 17w

    I let my silence scream, so I could find peace.

    ©rusha_c

  • rusha_c 17w

    As tragic as it sounds, I have simply nothing to say. So, I will take my leave silently. I will not scribble crap about yesterday or the unknown tomorrow. I will leave the paper blank, will leave the ink out in the air so it could dry out. As for my thoughts they are dead. And for those of you wondering, my dear Imagination and her love Fancy left together, to give their life another chance , another chance of happiness, away from my helplessness.

    ©rusha_c

  • rusha_c 19w

    Lowering the casket of our precious love, we became strangers.

    ©rusha_c

  • rusha_c 22w

    #petalc

    @clichepenname well I would really appreciate your kind read and humble advice.

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    Delicate like a flower
    she always hoped,
    someone would care for her
    before she withered away
    but they plucked all her petals
    each at a time
    just to let her know that
    she was born a girl.

    ©rusha_c

  • rusha_c 22w

    This lake reminds me of Veronica, her blue ocean eyes and the sparkle in them whenever she would sit by this lake. I feel her here more than anywhere else.

    The lake reminds me of her peaceful presence and how, I was always the gusty wind rippling through her tranquil mind. The shimmer in her eyes used to be brighter than those million stars painted on the sky. Her laugh soothing yet mischievous, like a small child ready to steal some handful of candies.

    Many summers we have spent together watching the sunset by the lake, as the pinkish orange hues reflected upon the still water used to match her blush adorned cheeks.

    Many nights we have spent wrapped in a blanket , roasting marshmallows over a small fire, star gazing and talking nonsense till the morning.

    This lake was her safe heaven and she was mine, but she is gone, so I visit our precious memories everyday as I sit by her grave, yes she asked to me bury her near her safe heaven, and now when my tears don't stop, the gusty wind dries them and it feels like she is wiping my tears and soothing my heart like she used to do back when we were young love.


    ©rusha_c


    #storytime #wod

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  • rusha_c 23w

    I borrowed a handful of blue sky from my last lover and his memories painted my empty sky with blue strokes and white clouds again.

    The colourless remnant of my existence gained a bit of hue. My cold and dead heart found warmth again.

    But the mere bliss of his memories didn't last long.The blue sky of his remained blue and mine was colorless again.

    Fallen dream of us together in love belongs to me and his love only belongs to her. Life created a world for us in the past, where now I'm the only living corpse, whereas he lives in another world brimming with love.

    I'm usually high on his carefree smile, though none is for me, its only reserved for her. His sky beholds her with happiness and my sky beholds our precious memories.

    Now I can't find any similarities between us as we are world apart.

    //Tears are long lost, my soul is numb, blue sky is my only escape from the ache of love and there is also a bottle of rum.//

    ©rusha_c

    #prose #word #belongc

    Thank you @writersnetwork for the kind repost .��

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