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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@theniharikadiaries

When Reality Hits

Heart of the Matter.

Photo Credits – Pinterest

It killed me.
Knowing that I couldn’t live without you and you were the air entering my lungs in every moment. The sweet nectar in our love we tasted under the oak trees at nightfall before we walked in the same direction, hearts intertwined and the hands interlocked perfectly like the perfect key to a lock, slowly turned into venom, consuming each nerve with a spiralling outrage. I wrote my pain unto chapped sheets which bent peculiarly every time its friction acted against the rustling tip, and I mixed that ink with the ashes of the letters you wrote to me which I burnt. No, my apologies, the heartfelt letters I wrote to you which you sent back because you can’t deal with my darkest demons, because you have your own, while I thought love was all about fighting against your demons together and falling in love with each other’s flaws, fears, insecurities. You stamped over my soul like a mere insect in your ravishing realm of creatures you converse with, make them feel important, and you make them see you as their hope. But unluckily, the only hope, ah, so blind. And then you see another marvellous creature. The list adds on. A lifetime of warmth burned into the coldness of the air as you walked away and every sound intensified but nothing struck my brain as hard as the sound of your shoes rhythmically hitting against the stone pavement and my heart beating along that bleeding rhapsody.

And in the series of irascible moods and uncontrollable rage, irregular eating habits and countless nights of insomnia that followed, I popped up a few pills and drugged me with some delusional reliefs through sleep, because I dreamt only of you and at times, us. As it gave my heart peace knowing that maybe I will once again get to bathe in the comfort and swoon in the brisk energetic fires of our passionate love with you as my soulmate forever and even now I can never think any wrong of you at all because I believe you just wanted your mind and nerves a different air to endure for sometime and you wanted to protect me since you love me. Until I saw that you replaced me like a mere utility. Not that I don’t dream or think of you anymore, just my eyes bleed streams of broken hopes as the agony in my heart consumes my every light, as I dream of how much I want to hate you and all I can do is hate. And there I went down with the stupid theories you made me feed upon but you were the one savoring the delicious feast in it, that you only hate me because you love me. The crazy part? I believed it. Shit.

Been more than months, and I have figured out the reason for my blind belief in that. I was an already broken soul, who believed another such soul would repair me. And now, I realize, nobody has a mended heart. It’s just either someone is more broken or less broken but never completely healed, because it just doesn’t ever happen. I am realizing I am the carpenter of my own mind and I can choose how to react to pain and pick the battles I wanna willingly fight in. Pain is inevitable, as I implore myself, look into the eyes of my deepest demons lurking around the unknown parts of my shadows I was unaware existed, and I deal the way I hoped from someone else. I have decided to fall in love with my insecurities, my parched throat, the drooping of my eyes, my overfilled fridge; my empty voids and torn lips. I’m embracing my scars, and it’s not easy. It’s a simple choice, just not an easy one. But when the sun seems to set and rise according to your mood, it’s always ink black, because you made me drown into the despair of such nothingness that I didn’t even bother to raise my head above the looming anguish of the wrathful waters of worthlessness which you forcefully wrecked my mind into, to see the sun at all. But once you make the choice of that struggle of embracing your scars and walking ahead, you learn to take responsibility for everything in your life; not being at fault for everything, but taking responsibility for it, and you stoopingly fall into such a comfortingly pricking cascade of self-love, no matter how long the fall; because there is always the same destination to it, love. And all of a sudden I’m thinking: ever fallen in love with yourself so much that had all those feelings of love/hate you had for that grim devil under the face of a gentleman just softly melt away?
It hits me.


Okay, so this is the first time I tried to experiment with words in a non-poem way, and I guess it worked out? Let me know in the comments whether you liked this way of writing I tried to experience with and should I post more such works. Also, this is my first post in the New Year 2020 and hence wanted to do something new😊 Other than that, I will indeed try harder to post more consistently and I hope that you guys follow, comment and share!

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Thank you for reading!

@theniharikadiaries