Emulsifying truth :
// these lights and you are enchanting
it is moving fast earnestly towards something out of reach
those lights were flickering out of your hand, i saw you wrapping it with a box
i see a tissue lying beside, the blood has now stopped talking, it's more of dead now, redness has turned into hues of ashy red, epically more covered, unnoticeable.
i found a set of mattresses in my room which i thought of selling off, but didn't
things are blurry and musty mostly but gurgling it every swoop makes it more sour but still doable,
the idea of idleness, the meager thoughts of reaching out, timid, but evident
hands, your hands i noticed is shallow and tainted, don't know if that's mine
those lights are trickling by now where i found a curfew to make it agile and strong, more observant
the doors are remained open, there're
pinches of taint there too
While this rapid flickering of light absorb the cowering dark surface I've been pondering upon, the recreant of this place succinctly grasp my attention while no longer has this been a ritual but now somedays i gladly sit quietly looking pale and pressed while adjudged my profilic face, damped - moist, the revisions and submissions of life has mostly been biased, those thoughts toiled around my prefixes, the fear somedays can be cunningly adverse, the nemesis of lies tied those massacre
my words holding my emotion
It pours in into this malign night, it began like a split of few minutes and flutters back,
hollow existence of my being preserving throughout,
''i could look at the sea, silent and monotonous,
i chose to look at the ocean and didn't promised you an eternity instead'' -
a love that stung-
while the world is effluent and minimizing efforts to not make any mistake, the conceptualized idea of love was a far different ideal than it previously was, whether the storms are darker or meek, the roughness of it cannot be surpassed
the usual paraphrase of love and happiness is an age bound idealistic veiw, having a domiciliary approach towards male dominancy
It stung while hearing people reminiscing over their beloved and stain over their dirty soul to make it hold last.
I cry for it to become a stain, as it belongs to them, for them has no pain while the pain resides it's story, it's insight.
My beloved, your story will come too, another glory of another lifetime, I'd hold the gun for a bitter taste for the world to take a turn. //
-Narmada.