#deadflowers
Sometimes we need to venture into the wilderness,
To refresh our eyes to see the wilderness in our current lives;
We may live now in “abundance,”
But, are we not the most desolate in spirit of all the generations?!
Just like the dead, cut flowers now in my living room,
So is my spirit, dry, without You —
Mar 27
Mar 27, 2026 at 7:11 PM UTC
The dead flowers,
crawling into my spine,
the spoilt, on my every breath.
My veins coloured with that
black cloud,
once blue,
It turned out it was only my hues.
My empathetic heart,
divine, as all called,
descended with me, the only thing I had left behind.
Crowned my own queen,
long rein the melancholy in me,
dazzling from within, the real power of me.
I left a trail,
if you follow,
a sea of vows,
strings of eternity,
sprinkled with my naivety,
if only it could ever last.
Find me,
beneath the crushed chaos,
but don't call me back,
I am a poet,
this is my purgatory.
- Madhura Joshi
Oct 20, 2025
Oct 20, 2025 at 6:23 AM UTC
She was happy
So it seemed,
But really
She was not.
At first,
It was just
A little ****
To ease the pain
And maybe feel numb
For a few hours,
But after a while
It wasn't enough.
Her mother beat
Her while she slept.
She says she's only here
For her mother's sister
Because she's only a baby.
Too fragile to know what
This world really is.
She pops a few of them pills
To feel numb again.
Thinking maybe this will be enough
But it won't.
Her father tells her
He doesn't care
What she does
As long as her grades are up.
You're supposed to care
Because you're her dad
And dad's are supposed to be
There for their children.
It wasn't enough.
She tried something new
And it's too much.
She falls to the ground
And she's seizing.
There's blood on the floor,
Dead flowers too!
She says she's only here
For her mother's sister.
Because she's only a baby,
Too fragile to know how
This world really is.
Her mother's sister is safe now.
She says,
She's no longer needed here.
She wants to leave.
She goes to get help
But it doesn't help.
She comes home
And she's at it again.
She tells her cousin
To stay home,
She doesn't want to see her.
She comes anyways.
You see she had a plan
To try again,
But she didn't.
She said she needed
Help again.
It's been a few weeks,
And I hope
She's getting better now.
Jun 24, 2018
Jun 24, 2018 at 11:16 PM UTC
A ghost used to dance in my mirror--
she moved like a picture taken in motion,
though her dress remained still as the background.
But she has since stopped dancing and
grown bruises beneath marigold eyes.
Once, she whispered to me “It’s not your fault,”
but her breath reeked of rotten flowers
left too long in a molding vase--
her skin delicate as dried viscaria petals,
flaking and crumbling ever since
a man’s uninvited touch lingered there.
She stands pretty from across the room,
though her beauty is measured by the distance
I have forced between us--
five feet and counting.
Feb 5, 2015
Feb 5, 2015 at 3:12 PM UTC