#writersblr

When your eyelash falls on your cheek, do you pick it up and try to change fate’s design? Do you place it in between your palms and hold it tightly, pull it to your lips and whisper through the cool of your skin, “Come, come back home”? Then release your fingers, blood returning through the whites of your palms, eyelids flickering as the sunlight wakes up the brown pools of your eyes. Blow the warm air that carries your message, sealed in what was once yours. If the future is set to stone, then darling why do we wish?

Cover me in Autumn leaves and let me stare at this endless blue ceiling in orange-painted glasses. Cover me in Autumn leaves until my senses liquify and drown me in its homey perfume. Cover me in Autumn leaves and let me drink the sap, make it run in my bloodstream. Cover me in Autumn leaves, so that I can love it enough to be unafraid of changeforevermore.

There are days when I want to write and other days I want to disappear. I want to meld with the air until the dual forces of nature are removed from the equation of time and extant. I will live indisputably but in you and around you. I will turn into an intangible substance you claim to be mystic, almost ghostly without flesh and bones, still lingering in your memories like a driving force of languid dreams. And you will wonder is this dream or real? You’ll clear your throat to feel your voice and the comprehension will give you peace. Then I shall disappear, again.

It’s midnight and you’re awake

For your footsteps echo in someone else’s dream;

Your thoughts louder than the tides that hit the shore,

Bottled up feelings floating on the deep-sea

It can’t be broken, no there’s not a key,

But it unfolds like covered inked pages re-telling a folklore

Sometimes in her softest hush and others in her shrillest scream.

It’s midnight and you’re awake

For the love, you chose to forsake.

The brim of my coffee mug lined with strings of dews

The radio played the afternoon rhythm and blues

And filled in the void between me and the Autumn dust.

There was a time wherein children sitting in a circle must,

On a sheet of paper paint their fancies with the crayons,

And I covered the arms of the trees in blazing gold and bronze

Pouring a bucket full of sunsets in this liquid town.

Still reminiscing the days whenever I smell Autumn around.

We loved each other in circles, never reconciling once but drifting apart every second. To reach a hand, one had to fall; but with our feet on the ground, we chose to run further. And with paper hearts and yellowed letters, you loved me differently and so did I.

You and I are fictional characters living in a fictional town. We tell each other lies, so that when we go back to bed tonight, we do not feel empty.

Some poison tastes like honey, dripping with saccharine and others taste bitter like guilt and treason. But what if the poison tasted nothing when sampled? What if its course of eradicating your core was measured and deliberate? Your superficial smile hiding the anarchy inside you, your kind hands closed around your lips to muffle the yelps, your compassionate heart wrapped by the arteries and veins, through which It flows: soundlessly and peaceably…But it gives you love, happiness and hope above all. It makes you assess the minutiae of life and teaches you to live in the moment. So, if death was destined to be then why don’t you stay a little longer and let me taste the human flavour of your Poison?

Hope is found in the silver thread that stitches the horizon,

In the deepest blue of the sea

The hiatus between your breathing self and the trident of Poseidon

A regal honeycomb but a humble bee.

Where the beauty veils an ugly verity,

Where the kohl and rouge veil the age

Where the mouth mouths against solidarity

Yet expectantly peeking at the bottom of the page.

Hope is a beautiful thing to nurture, without a fee

Hoping to keep igniting an ember of Hope inside me.

Across the ocean and the seven seas,

The misty land and valleys,

Where the rainbow ends in a pot of gold

And the tales of the star-crossed lovers remain untold;

Where ink and blood fight with uncommon élan

There, I will meet you where We began.

Urge to stay or let go

Migration when the things turn shallow;

Will you even out the grass and idle the dawn away?

Or will you burn the midnight oil when feats at bay?

The moon shines brighter by the night

And in the daylight buries its head into the blue sea

For it can discern the mistaken and right

Agrees that it can glow till the hours, wee.

And just like the moon, you shall shine

Have faith in yourself, that’s fate’s design.

As you enter the room, you will find a canvas on the wall

The one you painted, starlight glowing behind the two of us,

There on the table is a wine glass, give it a swirl

But don’t come looking for me,

I’m confined where the mortals bite the dust.

When the rain stopped the clock of the forthcoming

I crawled towards my window, my limbs-Prisoner of languor

The fresh dew brought in the memories, summoning

In the Spring of the eleventh hour, when the hands of my watch ticked four

One thing led to another until I had packed bags galore.

Figurines and silhouettes, strewn across the marble floor like puzzles,

Sunlight thawing the layer of frost

From the broken images of a once-perfect memory,

Of the days that were lost.

Meanwhile,

The world slept at the sound of our feet

Your heart throbbing with pain of the one you were going to cheat,

And as the moonlight outshone your gleaming nimbus

We stood under the mistletoe bathing in the light of fading Christmas.

What you were supposed to let go,

You carry them underneath your eyes,

Your aching limbs and fevered brows

In your muffled screams and distant cries.

Inside the paper that envelops your words

Lying on the battlefield, wherein broken limbs and swords

Carry endless echoes than your ashen skies.

If my love for you was not enough to make you stay,

Then I don’t know why am I standing,

At the edge of the water,

Hoping you’d call and

Then I’d jump into

The deep

Again.

I played your favourite song on an April evening

And like a never-ceasing echo lost in a cave with no exit,

Its verses imbibed on my skin, with each note deepening;

Thinking if it was not yours, why would it elicit?

Myneed to break free

From the clutches of rebirth and decay,

Dyed my fabric with broken paints

Of ‘I want to run, run away’.

And in that brief second:

Thestillness around us

Muffled under a blanket of chaos,

And like a person hypnotized at the count of three

In that brief second, I lived for an eternity.