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marmalade ツ

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teach me all you know~ I like the path that leads to you, amid silent storms of our homes with wet raincoats dotting the living room. I'm not lost. I couldn't be.

teach me all you know~ I like the path that leads to you, amid silent storms of our homes with wet raincoats dotting the living room. I'm not lost. I couldn't be.

marmalade ツ

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I rest my fingertips on my forehead, sandwiched between the hairy brows and the white lies, painted in black. There's something

I rest my fingertips on my forehead, sandwiched between the hairy brows and the white lies, painted in black. There's something

marmalade ツ

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Not everytime are letters thrown in wine bottles to the oceans, sometimes, even a rose has the fate~ to never reach its shore. okay, I know Rose Day is over 😪 #rzmp120 #theunsungquill #aestheticthoughts #restzone #quotestitchers #yolopomo #rzmidnightpoem

Not everytime are letters thrown in wine bottles to the oceans, sometimes, even a rose has the fate~ to never reach its shore. okay, I know Rose Day is over 😪 #rzmp120 #theunsungquill #aestheticthoughts #restzone #quotestitchers #yolopomo #rzmidnightpoem

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Not always blank. Not never black. #restzone #theunsungquill #rzmp98 #rzmidnightpoem

Not always blank. Not never black. #restzone #theunsungquill #rzmp98 #rzmidnightpoem

marmalade ツ

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I join the words end to end, trying to write in cursive and I merge my shadow into the mirror's, while never finding the real one indeed. I try to join the broken pieces of the vase which lie under the bed, hidden from mum. And, I join verses to let some meaning be stuffed into ma' mind, always ending in a never ending word called 'silence'. Is it the license that you & me need to drive our thoughts in the streets of the city or the adjective senile which is soon to hold me up in his arms. Or the word chain which is formed from joining ch and ain. All of it ends up in choices whether to choose the former part or the latter. And, inspite of joining and breaking so many words, I still seem and remain - incomplete. Incomplete... 💙 Day 23 of #100poemsfor100days My hashtag : #100scarletstairs ❤️ #theunsungquill #rzmidnightpoem

I join the words end to end, trying to write in cursive and I merge my shadow into the mirror's, while never finding the real one indeed. I try to join the broken pieces of the vase which lie under the bed, hidden from mum. And, I join verses to let some meaning be stuffed into ma' mind, always ending in a never ending word called 'silence'. Is it the license that you & me need to drive our thoughts in the streets of the city or the adjective senile which is soon to hold me up in his arms. Or the word chain which is formed from joining ch and ain. All of it ends up in choices whether to choose the former part or the latter. And, inspite of joining and breaking so many words, I still seem and remain - incomplete. Incomplete... 💙 Day 23 of #100poemsfor100days My hashtag : #100scarletstairs ❤️ #theunsungquill #rzmidnightpoem

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I'm ought to fall off from this stem of words which is growing old day by day, as the death falls off with age when the life's stem can't bear it anymore. I look at the ceiling which is a mere mixture of my present with the other half of my past. The part, which refuses to believe that it no longer belongs to me but to another me, who possesses just as many scars as me but perhaps not as many poems as me. Neither the wings depart the platform of my past, nor do the words but the smiles find more solace in the canoe of present, accompanied by the waves of peace. But as the sand slips off, so does time and so did this cruel poem - it slipped off from my past's hands and dropped to form the sand dunes of present. The sand dunes of present 💙 Day 15 of #100poemsfor100days My hashtag : #100scarletstairs ❤️ #aestheticthoughts #yqbaba #restzone #rzmp41 #rzmidnightpoem

I'm ought to fall off from this stem of words which is growing old day by day, as the death falls off with age when the life's stem can't bear it anymore. I look at the ceiling which is a mere mixture of my present with the other half of my past. The part, which refuses to believe that it no longer belongs to me but to another me, who possesses just as many scars as me but perhaps not as many poems as me. Neither the wings depart the platform of my past, nor do the words but the smiles find more solace in the canoe of present, accompanied by the waves of peace. But as the sand slips off, so does time and so did this cruel poem - it slipped off from my past's hands and dropped to form the sand dunes of present. The sand dunes of present 💙 Day 15 of #100poemsfor100days My hashtag : #100scarletstairs ❤️ #aestheticthoughts #yqbaba #restzone #rzmp41 #rzmidnightpoem

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| Of A Home | The pink walls that smell of candies, butterscotch ice creams and the sugar coated cakes which mum bakes, the yellow pages which intoxicate me to burry my nose into it and just let me breathe, breathe till the wreath hangs onto my grave, but that's fairly impossible for the parts and parcel of life do not accept that. ( caption) | Of A Home | The pink walls that smell of candies, butterscotch ice creams and the sugar coated cakes which mum bakes, the yellow pages which

| Of A Home | The pink walls that smell of candies, butterscotch ice creams and the sugar coated cakes which mum bakes, the yellow pages which intoxicate me to burry my nose into it and just let me breathe, breathe till the wreath hangs onto my grave, but that's fairly impossible for the parts and parcel of life do not accept that. ( caption) | Of A Home | The pink walls that smell of candies, butterscotch ice creams and the sugar coated cakes which mum bakes, the yellow pages which

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°°Of the Sea and I°° When the waves fall apart, unable to bear the burden of the Moon which so dearly clings to the surface of the bubbles near my feet, caressing the edge of my fingers with the cool - calm water of peace, the tunes and notes of the tides make their way, deep - penetrating within my ears and me. I suddenly remembered something - the chidings of mum in the morning trying to wake me up, the non-humorous jokes of Pa, lightly caressing our moods as well as smiles, the regular struggle of mine to bid farewell to the pillow and the wars occurring most often on the remote of the telly, the frequent recriminations and mollifications - all of it now flashes before my eyes while being at the sea - so now this becomes my family and the shore - my home, away from walls & roofs. For a better read : °°Of the Sea and I°° When the waves fall apart, unable to bear the burden of the Moon which so dearly clings to the surface of the bubbles near my feet,

°°Of the Sea and I°° When the waves fall apart, unable to bear the burden of the Moon which so dearly clings to the surface of the bubbles near my feet, caressing the edge of my fingers with the cool - calm water of peace, the tunes and notes of the tides make their way, deep - penetrating within my ears and me. I suddenly remembered something - the chidings of mum in the morning trying to wake me up, the non-humorous jokes of Pa, lightly caressing our moods as well as smiles, the regular struggle of mine to bid farewell to the pillow and the wars occurring most often on the remote of the telly, the frequent recriminations and mollifications - all of it now flashes before my eyes while being at the sea - so now this becomes my family and the shore - my home, away from walls & roofs. For a better read : °°Of the Sea and I°° When the waves fall apart, unable to bear the burden of the Moon which so dearly clings to the surface of the bubbles near my feet,

marmalade ツ

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°°Alone, am I? °° Amidst the hoots of the clamorous owl, surrounded by the hues of moonlight and dancing wity the wings of the bat - there lie I of perhaps there walks this soul called I... °°Alone, am I? °° Amidst the hoots of the clamorous owl, surrounded by the hues of moonlight and dancing wity the wings of the bat - there lie I

°°Alone, am I? °° Amidst the hoots of the clamorous owl, surrounded by the hues of moonlight and dancing wity the wings of the bat - there lie I of perhaps there walks this soul called I... °°Alone, am I? °° Amidst the hoots of the clamorous owl, surrounded by the hues of moonlight and dancing wity the wings of the bat - there lie I

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and-here in my balcony, I stand all fidgeting with a cup of coffee in my hands, it has grown chilly since a couple of days, the reflection of mine has turned to a shadow and there I see an aeroplane of wings of small birds, flying away to the North, the peacock's calls have faded now while the breeze sings in laurels of the v i o l e t e v e... (caption) Title : The Violet Eve : The Autophile's Mirror and-here in my balcony, I stand all fidgeting with a cup of coffee in my hands, it has grown chilly

and-here in my balcony, I stand all fidgeting with a cup of coffee in my hands, it has grown chilly since a couple of days, the reflection of mine has turned to a shadow and there I see an aeroplane of wings of small birds, flying away to the North, the peacock's calls have faded now while the breeze sings in laurels of the v i o l e t e v e... (caption) Title : The Violet Eve : The Autophile's Mirror and-here in my balcony, I stand all fidgeting with a cup of coffee in my hands, it has grown chilly