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loving her is
dreaming of tropical sunsets
while stuck up on a blizzard
believing her is
driving fast on the highway
with ***** in your blood
wanting her is
hoping for the snow to fall
in the month of July
kissing her is
chewing the pieces of your own broken heart one by one
but that shouldn't stop you from
-loving her
-believing her
-wanting her and
-kissing her
her rise might lead to your end
her smile might leave you distressed
you might land up in situations, you can't comprehend
but isn't what you signed up for when you chose her over me
so you are not allowed to give up on her
not now
not ever
Tell her that you love her despite her flaws, believe in her ability to fight her demons, make her feel wanted for everything that she is and when she gets tired of fighting kiss her gently and lie down with her. Love her more than you ever loved me. Your love can be her only savior. Please don't let me down this time.
you inhale tragedies
and exhale poetry
From where do you get your perseverance?
i have never had anything to my name
would you name your roses after me?
please excuse my desperation
To be ignored is a gift
To be heard is a sin
For if your words cause death
Would it not be better to be a ghost
Neither seen nor heard
Never giving joy
And never causing grief
Forever transparent
Slowly in comfort
is the ideal depletion

Serotonin state of wonder
pointlessly increasing

Pleasantly dreamy
Hearth fire warming

Asleep and unaware
a life without warning

Preferably
But not for me
Bring it all on I wanna see
I wanna live I wanna reach
I got no time for indifferent sleep
Traveler Tim
Some days blend well
with smiles and songs
and the passion of love
leaving swishing whirlpools inside

Some days settle down
as dregs in a teacup
the bitter dross
sticking to the froth around the edge
and the residue coming to the surface
as if constantly stirred

Some days, the mind’s slits open
and fancies sluice down
like a dam with shutters removed
or like birds fleeing away from a cage

then hands quiver and ink spills

Some days, I feel so alone
stretching me on the rack of pain
then I shut myself from the outside world
like a periwinkle withdrawn to its shell
hoping nothing,
sinking under dead weight
unable to feel if dead or alive!
He doesn't burn photographs
He doesn't join therapy sessions
He doesn't smoke too many cigarettes
Nor he drown himself into alcohol
He scratches his wounds daily
And never let them heal
He doesn't try to get rid of the pain
Instead he let it grow on him
He waters the seed of sorrow with his tears
He feeds it with the manure of old memories
He takes it to sleep with him
And nurtures it in himself
Till the moment when every single drop of his blood gets replaced by this pain
Until his fragile heart can bear no more
And his soul starts overflowing with emotions
That's when he dip his pen into this pain
And empty his heart on a piece of paper
He bares his soul for us to feel
He creates poetry that the world would cherish for centuries to come
That's how true poetry comes into existence
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