Her Eyes Never Failed To Fool

Oh, babe, I know how much you loved to play hide and seek where you stole my heart and everything I could call mine.
And you always made me the seeker, dooming me to find myself in your vague reflection and you, the hider – never revealing your true self beneath those pearl eyes and teal stockings.
But the games were fun until that day when you took me to the lakes for one final round of hide and seek and stole my breath and strangled me in your ocean and left me to drown.

I never got to seek you again.


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Originally published in A Cornered Gurl on Medium

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Inspiration

lalal

Photo Credits – Global Indian Stories

I wove inspiration from scraped clothes,
Tattered pieces speak enough woe,
The heart mumbled words,
Which banged against my soul,
But never came up to my throat.

When novels run out of unturned pages,
When poems run out of mystical metaphors,
And when life is a series of unspoken words and spoken silences,
She emerges,
And soothes my soul,
Whispers and calms my insanity,
And gives me hope.

The Rhapsodic Empress is the queen of concave shadows,
Her eyes mirror forgotten mottos,
She’s the beacon, she’s the stories, the forgotten warrior,
The golden memories, my mother’s lap, she’s the words,
That you wanted to say the most but you didn’t,
The ones you typed all the way through and then eventually deleted.

She bellows a tune that enchants my senses,
She wraps me in the nostalgia of intricate notes,
She sews my scars and paints my wounds,
With colours I’d forgotten exist.

She sings
An explosion of inexpressible feelings
And invisible wounds,
A journey which streaks through your soul
And shows you how deep you have fallen,
Only to be caught again.

Oh how, when I was younger I thought the music was all that mattered,
My mind swooned in the bliss of the pulsating pitch of the strings,
And here I stand,
When the melody is just an expression of the emotions my heart pumps into my veins,
I hear only what the lyrics tell me.
Where every second is a reminder,
Of that somebody.

The Rhapsodic Empress sings to my soul in every way,
She has a song prepared for every day,
I reside in the Empress’ reign with absolute faith,
As I’m aware that she’ll give me the air I need to breathe,
When the suffocation has throttled my pumping lungs.
She’ll give me the escape I crave,
From this troubled reality.

Oh thou Empress,
You’re my only addiction,
You drug me and show me amber shades of strength,
You teach me that instead of falling in hope of being caught,
By the somebody who once left you in tattered pieces,
Fall freely along with a parachute, and be your own savior.

You show me the sunrise when the rays cease to exist,
You remind me it’s my scars and my failures which make me who I am,
Don’t give up on me,
Because you make me not give up on myself,
Stay with me,
I’ll have a companion in this battle.


Originally posted on Medium through ACorneredGurl

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The Rhapsody of The Blues


An archaic tune playes over the dusty radio,
Reminds me of a dwindling duet I almost forgot a second back,
Every cosmic binder of the universe,
Wants me to never forget the rhapsody of our love.

Our rhapsody was melodious,
The tune was full of life,
And the lyrics of this rhapsody,
Were the loving letters I wrote you.

This rhapsody hit me hard,
But somewhere in the lyrics we drift apart,
And the bridge we built with committed chords,
Collapsed as you broke the guitar strings.

This rhapsody was our lover’s call,
I sang it and it beckoned you to me when I needed you,
And you followed my voice and sang along and gave me comfort,
But now when my ears sense this tune of the Blues,
They bleed a stream of shattered love.
And I scream louder than breaking glass.

Pillows don’t comfort me the way I was comforted,
When I cried into your arms and soaked your shirt in those tears,
My pillow only absorbs my pain but doesn’t relieve me of it,
The way you did when your chest was my only pillow.

I can hear your voice hiss through the corridors of my brain,
Corridors painted your favorite colour with our pictures hung up on the walls,
With this now irritable rhapsody playing in the ballroom of my mind,
Which is my destination to be in hallucinations,
When drowning in insomnia,
Dreaming of you in my arms,
Dancing an endless dance.

I can’t sing a note no more,
My throat is blunt of unspoken words,
The rhapsody of our love burns me down to a soulless spirit,
And this spirit can’t survive with her soul anymore.
You are my soul.
I can’t sing the Blues anymore,
Because you tore apart my vocal cards.
Pain is the only note I could produce,
But now I have a heart of stone and a spirit devoid of love,
Which has no voice of it’s own.


I can never caese my love for you,
You are my life and you are my death,
And now that the rhapsody has lost its life,
I dream of only death,
As I gulp down a handful of pills,
Drug me of a faraway fantasy,
This fantasy which I can only achieve,
With the sacrifice of my present life.

And the pills start their deadly effects,
As my body slowly turns into stone like my heart,
I am nothing but a mere corpse,
As grim darkness crawls upto the ceiling walls,
And as the noises intensify of the dead spirit’s desperate insanity,
I still hear over the drunken voids,
Rhapsody which still plays over the dusty     radio..

Greetings fellow bloggers! Across this wonderful interactive platform, I came across a publication named ACorneredGurl started by Miss Tremaine Loadholt. Here, I was made aware of Young Minds of Medium, wherein the youth can submit their unique pieces according to certain challenges. This time, the challenge was ‘How Do You Sing The Blues’ and this was the poem I wrote. The minimum required age was 15 and Miss Tre accepted me as a writer in her impeccable magazine despite me being 13. My wholehearted regards to her. She has so kindly blessed me with her generous and beautiful nature.

I hope you all take out the time to read this one😊
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