Ps-Salvator Mundi(Latin for Saviour of the World) is a painting by Leonardo da Vinci subject in iconography depicting Christ with his right hand raised in blessing and his left hand holding an orb and represents heaven.
That's how it started. I sat in the corner and i cried. I cried for the girl
~who gave up on trying~
for she was always healing others while
~no one even tried to be there for her~
I cried for the girl,
~who never wanted to grow up this early. the girl~
~who always disappointed people~
no matter how hard she tried. The girl they made feel,
~that being her, wasn't good enough~
and will never be. She gave up on trying without giving up on any one she loved,
~she gave up on herself~
Every time she tried to fix something,
~she made it worse~
They never apologized for hurting but she
~apologized for being hurt about it~
Every time you think someone loves you, they prove you wrong, that they just needed you for awhile, It's like they are travelling and they decide to take a break. That break is you.
//I'm drowing but I've learnt the art of holding my breath//
They say time heals, but the truth is, you get used to it, you get used to the scars people gave you, you get used to being alone until one day it comes back and then next moment you don't know where you are but just like it came, It goes away, //Just like the nightmare you thought you'd never survive, you survive this too//
I don't know what this is, Can be ignored. Take care❤️
Hues though vivid, ink is integrity Papyrus heart pearls verses verity
* * * Indigo splotches absorbed by parchments Neither faded, nor erased, remain immortal Kaleidoscope of ink, touchstones of time Tints and shades of beguiling blues Adorned the papyrus of welkin Tales live through ink for time infinite
Her quill bleeds balladries Her smile speaks similes She adorns mesmerizing metaphors She cherishes saccharine sonnets Her orbs an opalescent sky glistering with wisdom and purity A girl who swig metaphors and crochet them into poetries She knows how to gift smiles in the realm of similes She is an altruistic canvas Her quill weave pulchritude rhymes Her love for skies can be seen in the reflection of her musings. @shaiz_fs
I wanted to cwtch blue hearts But you inked my sighs with love and warmth You plucked the slice of broken stars and clamped my open hair Not to cage my sobs But to make me know I don't need open hair to tell myself that I'm free and I can flee You gave me wings And bedecked my life with scoops of sunshine You always were there when darkness consumed my soul , when my past knocked on my door You were the first person who was there for me You giggled on my childish behavior and pinched my cheeks to make me smile when I cried . @/sanam_khan
If my heart would've been Da Vinci's sketch or a painting sculpted by Van Gogh, sunsets would've visited it more fervently, along with double edged rainbows to add colour to my heart's vintage sky, and let the stars absorb blue ink till they glow. "I would have stopped the break of dawn" and let the shades of sun float.
If my heart would've been a sonnet written by Shakespeare, syllables would've traveled in the compartment of each line, so that an unheard poem beats inside the voids of my chest till my dwelling heart is read by every teenager whenever those beats together rhymed.
If my heart would be the city of oranges then summer on its bare foot would've roamed with hungry heart and unquenched throat till it sucks all the citrus and greenery, but migrating monsoon would've visited the barren lands of my heart too till Ambazari lake overflowed with certainties.
If my heart would've been Taj Mahal then the mortal souls of Shah Jahan and Mumtaz with their immortal love would've explored each marbled chamber till all my heart could pump is love, till each vague tale could inhale and exhale, is love.
And if my heart would be a somnolent lake, I would've dropped a tint of blue ink till each wave rage sapphire, I would've dropped a stroke of yellow ink to bloom daffodils layer by layer, and a pinch of black ink to outline hills and valleys, till my heart turns into a canvas of life. ~Purva