U- Understand (to the one who walked out)

U- Understand (to the one who walked out)

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Understand,
When you decided,
We wasn’t worth the war,
My nights turned colder,
Than the December weather,
Soaked sheets became my partner
And gloom my constant shadow.
I was broken
And I showed it.

But understand,
A man walked out before you,
I was six and I remember,
Gazing through
Night constellations,
Wondering when,
He’ll make an appearance.
I was six,
I learnt to mend me.

Understand,
My atoms are made of
Brokenness and resilience,
And the stars at night I gaze at,
Remind me, of the light in darkness;
And my Lord,
Who saved me at six,
Wouldn’t leave me broken at thirty.
Understand- today I am grieving,
Tomorrow, will dawn a new scene.
Time for wallowing,
Time for fixing.

Healing-

Healing-

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She wanted to know,
Why I hid during day;
Where my nightmares took me,
In the solace of dusk;
If the golden rays streaming,
When the morning sun comes;
Puts a damp in the void,
She thought was my world.

She wanted to know,
Of the cracks in my building;
The voices I heard when,
Silence- I befriended;
She wanted to know,
Of the life I am seeking;
The universe I envision,
In my kaleidoscope dreams.

She wanted to know,
Of the holes in my heart,
The blackout in my chapters,
The fairytales, I write;
She wanted to know,
In the hopes she could heal,
But every second with her-
Is all the healing I need.

The above Image is Courtesy of Unicorn.tumblr.com

The saying”everybody needs inspiration” rightly applies to this Random, my muse has gone awol and I haven’t been able to write anything meaningful. I signed up for October Poetry Writing month but their prompts  haven’t titled my writing bone yet. Any tips?

D- Don’ts of Men

D- Don’ts of Men

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He was born at a time when society,
Considered men a different specie;
Higher in grade and superior,
Than those with xx in their genes.

He was fed with things he shouldn’t do,
The don’ts which would make him a man-
Crying when hit, playing with dollies,
They were beneath his command.

He was born at a time when society,
Imposed on him right from the start;
Displaying emotions was weakness,
And strength was a sign of men’s pride.

He was broken before realizing it,
I fell in love with a broken man;
Who’s sole fault- being born at a time,
When emotions were bottled inside.

He was born at time when society,
Imposed on men, as it still does today;
And if I’ve learnt anything from the past,
It’d be to raise my son, simply human;
Regardless of society’s enforcements…

The above image is courtesy of Soul Magazine.com   P.S this is a scheduled post. I’m currently away, will be back soon. 🙂 thanks for taking the time to read.

She’s my person-

She’s my person-

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Here’s to the girl who reminded me- the importance of being fractured and cracked, as the only way light could illuminate my heart; always at hand with her cheery smile.

Here’s to the girl with the huge nerdy glasses who’s face, always embedded in the pages of a book, spared her hours to hear my baseless rants.

Here’s to the girl who curled up beside my trembling body, her silence speaking and endearing more than any words could.

Here’s to the girl with books as her weapon and dreams as her shield, who opened her secluded world to a friend in need.

Here’s to the girl, who schooled me in the saying, broken is another word for “not quite there yet”.

Here’s to the girl, an outsider turned family, through tears and adversity.

Here’s to the girl, my proof- that a woman can uplift another woman too.

Here’s to that girl, my person.

the Above image is courtesy of Smmadellc.com

Don’t fall in Love with me-

Don’t fall in Love with me-

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Don’t fall in love with me she said-
I shine too bright,
I burn too fast,
My embers and flames,
Are tortuous beyond sight;
Don’t fall in love with me she said-
I am jagged at the edges,
Holed in the middle,
All shades of dark surround me,
My smile would be your nightmare.
Don’t fall in love with me she said-
My smile would trap your frail heart,
And I’ll leave you hanging,
It’s a curse, it’s the truth,
I’m a hard face to get rid off;

And fall in love with her he did-
You’re tough, I’m tougher
You’re scarred, I’m broken
You’re grey, I’m a dark vault
Your nightmares would be appealing.
And fall in love with her he did-
It’s a curse, it’s the truth
I’d love to Marry you;
If you do, leave me hanging,
It’d be a pleasure to be left
Hanging by you.

The above image is courtesy of : Tumblr.com  Inspired by the above quote. 

Broken-

Broken-

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The words he said left an echo which has only now, begun to fade.
“I didn’t break you, you were already broken”. It felt like a hundred pins were stuck into me all at once, with my body’s gating mechanism shut down so that I could feel the pain in every cell of every part of my body. He broke my heart, but it was my whole body which fell apart.

“Broken”- he called me. I was damaged, damaged goods with no value. I spent a long time trying to make sense of that word. A little longer, I spent on anyone who could fix- broken. God, I hated that word.

I wish I could say- that I realized the words he spoke that night were false, lies and nothing more but I can’t. I’m only just now learning, maybe he was right; maybe I am broken; but I am so done waiting around for him to come and fix me.

The image above is courtesy of Lost Treasures found.com

I’m Done-

I’m Done-

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I’m done. How many times I’ve said that word and betrayed the very essence of it. But there’s only so long I can hold on to our broken pieces before the shards imprint a permanent infirmity. No, I am not done. I will be, but i’m not. I’m just getting started. I might leave for a day and slip back for an hour; leave for two days and slip for some minutes; leave for a week and slip back for a few seconds. I’d keep leaving and slipping untill there is nothing left to slip back to- I have arrived at my destination and I am done, done with you.
But until then, I am just getting started…

image credit: waterdropsonmywindow.wordpress

Writer’s Quote: Erin Hanson

Writer’s Quote: Erin Hanson

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And then, there are writers like Erin Hanson. She is a twenty year old Australian (according to google) with hands that weave magic in form of poetic words. I initially came across her works on Pinterest and noticed her initials were E.H . I automatically assumed they meant “Ernest Hemmingway” due to the wisdom and flawlessness of her words. I was quite impressed by Hemmingway, for walking in the skin of a girl and writing from the female point of view for a lot of the poems. Turns out, it was actually written by a female named Erin.

Erin Hanson is one of the few modern poets I enjoy, a second is lang Leav. Every single one of her poems, leaves a message with me. When I hit that dry spell of writing, her words are an inspiration. I find myself thinking, it’d be nice to be as good as her; plus another bonus, she rhymes. If you’ve written poetry before, you’d know it’s not an easy feat to make complete sense, all the time, and still rhyme. Erin Hanson makes it work and I admire her for that.
She has also released a book titled: “The Poetic Underground” which is available on Amazon. Without further adieu, after talking the talk, here’s a poem of hers to walk the talk.

You can write for hours on hours,
Of all the things you wish you could be,
But the truth of the matter is simple,
People are not poetry,
And I know that you wish you weren’t awkward,
That sweet words could roll right off your tongue,
But your time here’s too short just to worry,
How each single sentence is strung,
It’s okay to be rough round the edges,
To be bruised up and broken and scarred,
But it’s not okay to let people tell you,
That it’s a reason to change who you are,
Your hair doesn’t always seat nicely,
The way a poem sits so neatly on line,
And sometimes you might feel like a word,
That nobody has learnt to define,
You might not be a star that lights darkness,
Or a bird that can teach us to soar,
But it’s okay, because you’re too complex,
To be crammed into one metaphor,
It’s okay not to know what you’re doing,
Since your feelings don’t have to all rhyme,
Though a poem once complete is eternal,
You have the freedom to change over time,
You’re much more than can ever be written,
There is no title to say, “This is me”,
You can’t be trapped in the lines of a notebook,
Because people are not poetry.

This post is In response to Writers Quote Wednesday, hosted by Silver Threading.