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trickles of sweat,
that culcalte into buckets of water,
keeping oceans afloat,
while humans miserable, burning in the waves of unintelligible thought,
the clock chimes, with invigorated rhythm,
the wind is dead silent, as it whispers,
a silent tongue of shrill voices.
the cricketers, succumb to their misery,
in the dead cry, of the night,
owls accompanying children,
to midnight meals of laughter,
whuch would only happen in the dreams,
of a suitor to the polarity, of things.
the walls around here are baked,
with heat and wisps of murmur, that fill
the numbness of crocky ears, leaning to,
unfulfilled silences to which, the grasshoppers dance.
Wrote after a long break. Will be posting daily **
With the wind, it disappeared, fathomed away,
Into the unending horizon of lies and mirages.
I could've chased, and followed, and trailed,
through the mountains, seas and mud tracks,
But I had enough of it all.
I had realized, that life was more than just always chasing,
It is about caring what you have,
before it goes away too,
It is about being at home, where your heart rests,
Sleeping peacefully with a mature choir of feelings,
Dousing the fire of greed.
Forever in certainty.
As some things r better lost than given back.
After a long, long time.
Degree by degree,
the cold grew outside, numbing all,
in it's way.
The fog bowed down and apprenticed.
But inside, you pulled me closer,
and scales of temperature suddenly seemed,
A lot less important to measure anything.
In unison, our warmth dissipated into each other,
as we knew,
The cold wasn't the only thing growing outside,
but our love too.
#cold #love #hearts
Her words danced like wine on my lips,
poetry in my soul and
ecstasy in my heart.
not everybody needs testimonials,
some dead with colours stroked,
at their feet, unkempt, kettles of rage,
boiling and burning, the heat and it's
conundrums has become a melodrama.
it is searing up wounds, once healed,
now spilling blood and secrets, shared
by ties, times and seas of cooking agony.
testimonials are not for, every wandering soul.
as they're also meant for every locked
you often do not know, that people fall in love in many ways. Whether it's just the cusp of destiny or the fate of a lifetime. In between cities, villages, neighborhoods and people. As one knows another, the connection effing humans runs deep, lining  pale sunsets along the way. People feel for each other because they understand each other need's and wants. And once they do, love makes way, into the summer solstice. Hope and ardour mix in the same drink to go on and feel loved slurring away mishaps and beholding a doctor future; the one braided with hope and ecstasy as one and one become two, together.
Being loved is important. Never let go of the person you have if u do. And if you don't, do not worry, it comes to you all inherently.
The sky twirling at bay,
Melodies of summer in May,
Heat stroking farther, forever
In this oblivious weather,
The wind flies high,
Darkness regretted, Light calls,
To enervate the recreated world,
The maze of life,
Is regrettable,
But as summer calls,
So do the loving and dead,
And, thus,
The unforgettable becomes forgettable.
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