squared

your sweetness caused cavity.

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  • squared 5d

    well prepared for darkness and ears given to heartbreak songs.

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    scattering myself, I thought I could be the stars.

    ©squared

  • squared 1w

    I so appreciate the editor's choice.

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    it's about holding my hands in muddled war
    as the clouds do to each other before the
    appearance of storm.

    ©squared

  • squared 1w

    Oh yes, I used to write one-liners.

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    my hair looses its sense and i find poetry
    resting its arms in the lap of air,
    the day i care longer for sky.

    ©squared

  • squared 1w

    “heart that runs in wave
    assembles the street of my story,
    a cage for sorrow and a palace for kind”.

    I have questioned, what if our moments were a union of joy and memories with no single tear. Straight roads, two foot and we’ll bring every effect of candid smiles above in seconds. No camera shall catch our living and no poetry should define the grace of our smile. But was it intentional, to build suffering? the act of denial or to let go promises like first mistake? we observe happenings a little less than we do to ourselves every day, endless times. Because I found; the universe is within me and I shall know to sing with darkness, like the way my old heart do without fail.To keep up with life, you might learn to keep going but if you forget mistakenly’ there’s a clear map of clouds just walk wherever it goes but a sudden stop can break you down with the feel of bullet in thighs. Like the time functions and so our heart, throwing away a moral- swing into action, with slightest pause. So I see, there’s a parallel relation with ups and downs in life with your one bold dear heart, if there’s a tide in your beat how could you live a life at ease?


    “I make no favourites,
    since every person i meet belong
    to the pages of book, standing stars”.

    I wish if people were as easy as I am with my diary, venting what they feel or treating lies well, screaming love loudly for whomsoever they felt . In every person, I find a silent disaster which is yet to happen or succeeded before, where they lost a noble risk-taker, fearless bird and a delicate lover in themselves. With bolt from the blue, they learnt to revise the principle of losing someone they loved besides allowing emotions to get stolen by, a fair thief-time. It makes me feel, “the people i met are standing stars waiting for someone to make them sleep over easily in arms”. For some who stayed in day were hard to express or maybe i was struggling to read people. I’d like to name myself a day star, where I’ll be there celebrating my existence and no one should think about breaking me away from the sky.

    “silent and sad are two
    opposite album we believe that,sync together”.

    If I speak less, i mean to enjoy life with acts more than sayings. Eternally, i have gifted etch to myself for the people who are just a home in sand presently; deference to their life and value to their breathe made me cut my worth. I describe, “my giving can be measured with sky”, yet no new being can do what i did to their dry season and moody misery. Taking people to other chapter, made me forget where I belonged to and with that I misplaced, pretended and lost what the spirit in me, existed like. ‘Getting what you give’, is a place in heaven for a person with sin. Likewise, I mended by own, giving grief in the hands of poetry. No hate to scar, no make-up upon past, but a honour to overcome myself as a child prone to paradoxical livelihood. So I ask? till when will you be the master of silent wars? copy of others tragedy? corner to every shore?and a broken metaphor by own? I am here to surrender you my happenings, so you won’t regret about your deed and call your life misfortune. Disturb pain with widely open smiles, plan your blues with homeless sky, be a person who leaves fear for sincere cry and let the flame of your shame match shoulders of bold games.

    -touch yourself as a moon does to sky, flower to sunlight and a lover to wine. Fall apart from the roof that skip your presence, cause you were made with three-sixty-five wonders and twelve traditional prayers. Remember to bloom,remember to do, cause the flower that doesn’t ; fade, fall and die.

    ©️ squared
    #define

    An attempt towards writing again, not a poetry but this time witnessing about myself.
    Thank-you so much for the read.

    ps: missing @say_me_krish and many more oldies and goldies I had throughout writing. Missing how things were back in our times :(

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    poetry then was barely about
    any unkind days or insane rainfalls, when I found
    my existence is an aid to every different coloured sky I met.

    ©squared

  • squared 1w

    Hi, kem cho?��

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    ...thusly, we forget the people who water us during summer.

    ©squared

  • squared 4w

    Words, backbone of my voice;
    raising poetry with good days
    and defeat beside echoes of ache.

    ©squared

  • squared 4w

    #care

    striving so much to write.
    I hope to get back here soon, ugh really!!!

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    she needs a lot more care
    than the nights have ever done
    to her disturbing poetry.

    ©squared

  • squared 5w

    “I found a way to live
    by gazing stars and meeting poetry
    an art that I could never touch but feel
    You were still a being; something alive”.

    I have some stones to block
    the world, which says
    love is just another sector of lie
    in which we live
    and a black magic along with it.

    But before doing it I feel
    illegal to commit my own words
    because never did I feel
    the emotion of love I just came across
    with a mistake unintentional.

    I thought I would find myself
    and erase the lyrics that I sang
    with agony and my self isolated heart
    but instead found you and lost everything
    of me that I collected via my own verse.

    I offered you my hair and my
    sensual skin, priceless. Time, love and
    the loop of forever was everything I sheltered with your hands but when did I loose my own
    name, worth and your loyalty, I didn’t know.

    I became much of thorns for you
    and scratched evil eyes to save your smile
    but when did I become this scary that you found a nightingale of your own and I was just
    another curse you gave on to your enemies.

    I guess I was too much of concern
    and less of care that made you doubt about
    my innocence. You know, you were my first and
    and I didn’t know how to love. I’ll neither beg nor die to hear your voice again, I promise.

    Cause with you I have scattered my
    own smirk and my wholesome laughters, you see. I miss myself along with you and I’ll keep
    doing it with a fact that I have misplaced these two. And now believe, I didn’t change i just built myself.

    Time keeps on running even if
    we hold them with some people who
    feel more like a part of our closest breathe and
    these breathe makes me suffocated sometimes but, I survive.

    I hope we find a reason to meet again
    either the fall of good rain or clash of our paper plane, but not again with a collision by mistake.

    With every end, there’s hope buying your tomorrow with someone of your deservance. I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.

    ©️squared
    #end

    Hi, to many mellow beings here!��️
    An attempt towards writing again.
    Thank-you for reading.

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    You were the quill
    I kept within my hair
    and so gently
    you fell upon others poetry.

    ©squared

  • squared 17w

    I am
    writing few words
    which were supposed
    to fit within your cold tears.

    Only when
    you'll remember
    this old version of art,
    who knew to cry with her
    words and laugh with her fears.

    Know that
    I was some she
    with odd calamities
    mourning for the freedom
    of my voice from caged melancholy.

    I remember
    every fall of war
    making my feeble soul
    smoke limitless heat of fatality,
    knowing I am the beast of my own night.

    I ain't burning,
    I am fevered with fraud
    flame of lies they flowered
    against me with eulogies, you know
    how dramatic it is to weep and smile?

    Atleast you,
    you would have not excused
    the crackling voice of my glassed
    emotions? I know i was decorated
    with scars when my poetry asked for beauty.

    Those days
    when my smile twinkled
    few dews of belief for the darkness
    I defined myself as a, fancied omen of hope.

    But now
    with every period of partial fate,
    I wish to die and send my soul towards
    the sky to let my essence breathe immortality.

    I am complete with
    darkness, let me obey
    the purpose of light by leaving
    my verse within every spark of midnight.

    ©squared
    #twinkle

    Ps: “You”, represents the star here.

    @writersnetwork
    THANKYOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR MUCH TIME HERE❤️������

    Damn, gracias for the EC.
    Thankyou so much @miraquill team for featuring my words, obliged.

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    somedays, I wish
    to surrender my poetries to the stars
    so if i die tomorrow, my words shall stay immortal forever.

    ©squared

  • squared 17w

    Image credit: ___withljay on Instagram

    #rise
    @writersnetwork

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