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Mystic Ink Plus Dec 2018
In response to
The posts
From friends, abroad

What clicks inside is
To ask,
What time is there?

Yes
What time is there?
Nothing more
Genre: Humor
Theme: Different Time Zone || Hide N’ Seek
Kee Oct 2018
poking at his rib cage
i thought of all of the wonderful times
ive spent with him
not knowing that this would be my last time poking his rib cage
i smiled and laughed in his face
he loved me the way i loved me
or so i thought
and the betrayal finally set in
when the messages stopped flowing in
and the block on all of social media shocked me as well
until my friend had shown that while you were studying abroad
you were going steady with a beautiful french girl
Aditya Oct 2018
A teary farewell at the Airport,
Fake 'good'bye's from heavy Hearts,
Bags filled with memories from the Past,
Cruising over the seven Seas,
A new journey with emotions Galore.

A land promising a colorful Future,
fulfilling every need and Desire,
In exchange of a simple Contract,
Unlearn the ways of the land I Belong,
For I am the square peg in the round Hole.

Burning the midnight Oil,
Stale bread and a cup Noodles,
Celebrating festivals through a tiny screen,
a fake smile masking every tear,
Where's the silver lining amid the toil ?

Oh how the hard work has flourished,
certified successful as defined by society,
smiling at the acquired Possessions,
To realize materials never smiled back,
I am now the round peg without a Soul.
While the term global citizen is frequently used by millions who live abroad, how meaningful is this term really ?
Is there genuine acceptance of thought, culture, race, ***, religion, beliefs or is it merely disregarded based on one's nationality ?

While it's a beautiful experience when one moves across the seven seas to learn and adapt to new ways of living, but it sometimes also entails a complete unlearning of the past. 

Let's stop the labeling and try to live in a world where borders exist only for the maps, not for the hearts !
elle Sep 2018
I am drinking water that is meant for the plants
I am singing songs I used to sing for my dog
but she’s dead now

and I talk to myself while I scrub greasy pans,
read messages but never answer.

my vocabulary doesn’t stretch the length of expectations
by now I know that my silence sends the right message,
clearer than my hand-picked words
when I feel my blood boil and my brain lunge to keep up
I shut up.

they are just waiting to speak
at me and
I am just trying to sleep
neth jones Aug 2018
My weapon is voice today
'tis careless
a spell amoungst curs
it puts close friends in their places
and worried
(behind my back)
It kisses with mischeif
and muddies stray-fully

My weapon is played
a trial
a tool
to bring about my isolation
Then i may exit without notice
and unfollowed
a relief, in release

My real work shall begin abroad
kailasha Mar 2018
We're here now,
and theres more than the two of us.
But there's one feeling, and the same ache
yet different struggles
- * -
We all think the same things,
yet in different tongues.
The histories do not include us.
Our taste buds have had to adapt to the wind here,
we have learnt from the best of the chameleons.
- * -
It's the same stage set up and the curtains were never drawn,
but our eyes see a completely different story being played out.
Collective whispers greater than a shout.
Peace of mind has been a while, it'll take long...
Home isn't where the heart is, when the heart keeps moving around.
inspired by anna.
Falling out of distracting thoughts
he reacquainted with his glare in the mirror;
he'd been somewhere else, undoubtedly lost
in a moment of her.
She too was standing in front of a mirror,
putting her face on, yet the occasion was stained
with an uncharacteristic frown, as if sadness
had found her somehow.

After many anxious intakes of breath,
he reached for the door-keys lain by the trinket box
next to their photograph. He cradled
the apartment keys in his palms for a brief moment,
then went on his way.
She stared at their joyful pictures on her wall,
a shrine with each an expression of love.
She clutched his name on the key fob and left also.

That evening in the restaurant,
her eyes glued to his as intensely as her hands
pursing through the gaps in his fingers;
two sizes too big.
He reciprocated warm heartfelt smiles,
trying to keep it together for both of them.
Circling his thumb gently on pressed fingers.
Her accented cadence a perfume for the ears
and her broken English endearing;
this would all haunt him,
these details tearing at the pit of his stomach
as he languished in the reality
that he has no choice. He must return home.

Over the balcony
wrapped in her anaconda-like arms,
he witnessed her cheeks
tear-staining in the moonlight,
her whimpers battling the lulling tides and cricket chorus.
She crumpled as a strewn napkin against his frame,
before exchanging a kiss;
soft and lovingly endured. The very kiss that wishes
not to end but to stay this way forever.

How melancholy it was in the sea breeze,
to walk among their favourite spot on the beach;
where many an anecdote was told,
many a sweet little nothing shared
and many a glance embraced.
Right now with the hush of salt water
lapping the shore;
their 'Last chance to see' had been studied.
In that instant, both knew
that it couldn't be possible to have
one another again.

They stood for a long while by the waters edge.
Both just as broken,
before becoming ghosts of the scene
and ghosts to each other.
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