artisticwildflower

I held him under the water his foot on mine and his heart afloat his hands pulling the strings around my waist in the sweet rhythm of the dead corals and my feet to the song of the mermaids. his eyes held secrets like oysters pretentious of pearls and shine only to be fed on by gloom and creatures under the earth. I pull him closer leaning on his stiff muscles whispering to him the stories of his older life to carry them into a new universe, the life after death. I held him under the water his foot on mine and let him go, up and up and up till he sees the new light of the earth and of a hollow happiness, and sink in the gloom of a dead lover.

1) The purple moleskin notebook I bought for writing down poems, the empty pages staring down at me, munching away on my time.

2) The writing reminder on my laptop screen, jumping out time to time, checking on my hostile mind.

3) The nagging thoughts in my mind, I am scared to put into poems.

4) The yellow sticky notes lining the wall, holding onto the same goals every month.

5) The empty canvas on my dresser, I promised to paint last year.

6) The paints and the brushes, meant for destressing, sparkling new.

7) The books on my shelf, I read everyday, to hope and the end of gloom.

8) The bluetooth mindset, I bought for the escaping into a daydreamer's world, ready to buzz into sweet music, having failed me in the past.

9) The Pinterest tab, I kept open to transform my gloom into an aesthetic picture.

10)The clock besides me, the only one running consciously in the room.

for you have your back to the people you know. 

for you don't see the swords hanging down their throats. 

you die, every moment now and then, 

when you trust.

-artisticwildflower

and I sip the coffee you left me,

I let my lashes down,

and words litter my neck

I splash my face

with glitter and let metaphors breath.

I grab my heart

and twist it hard

I adorn your love

with the pearls raining

and poems with the tears,

I dip the scroll in coffee,

and gulp it down,

they say poems heal,

but I guess

mine were just promises

coated in less sugar.

and you get lost

like august among the fallen leaves,

and like colors in an abstract painting.

-artisticwildflower

and I sit by it for hours,

my cheeks red with blood gushing in

from the butterflies feeding on my stomach

My lips curve in a smirk from a heart beating faster

and of the wildflowers fluttering, blooming

in a thunderstorm.

I open it while the starlight goes off,

and the storm blows off my roof.

You sent me a little piece of your heart,

and asked for the whole of mine.

And I wondered about the doors it would knock,

if I returned it to nowhere.

I look for seas at nights and whisper into the shells stories of men and women losing to the fault in their stars and burning books with merry finales.

the apple of your eye

and try seeing the world

for I donated mine,

to a blind poet,

looking with his walking stick

for raindrops

on a sky shining like sun.

I am blind,

and rain is my poetry,

I search for it on abandoned roads,

and write a plagiarised history

of travellers and musicians,

roaming drunken,

looking for potholes,

inspiring them.

But, my pocket has a burnt hole, and my fingers are stitched,I watch the roses, dripping along the way, and condense to thorns.

and love comes to rescue, on a dark night you sit with smudged liner, and push it out, for it does not adorn your vehement theories of love.

I have come a long way,

abandoning you with every footstep, selling your memories at cheap to every scroll I write, sending my sadness to your doorstep,in envelops of gold, sealed with my tears; scrubbing away the traces of yours from my skin, humming away your songs, in the windows of your bleak house, for on treachery it lay its bricks. I have come a long way, growing and healing and blooming, building myself again, on the destructed heart you left me. and yet i see you, when i burn the scrolls of poetry weaved, reflecting back from the mirror, asking me if the only happy memories I wanted to erase.

I am lost again,

In the remembrance of a time,

We breathed into flowers,

And drew forests.

The sparkling drops of life,

Falling from the dark thundering sheets above.

Winds bringing to your blushing cheeks,

White florets, weaving them in your hair.

Your eyelids fluttering,

The beauty sliding out, turning into butterflies

Singing tunes to the ferns

Growing under your fingers,

The nectar running up your skin.

I look into your eyes,

Twitching open,

The sparkling shine,

And on some days, loneliness makes it way into my silent castle, shrieking in every wall, I already pinned my arms on the door, barely hidden. A poor, weak prey I made, already giving in. And the beast, glint of pity in his eyes. Yet he stepped forward, the dagger silent, To wound into my perfectly bruised body. It stood for some time, thinking. But its worth, it had to prove, The eminence it had in hearts. I close my eyes, Only to feel myself engulfed again, like swimming for an aqua phobic. In my face, the realisation hits, How the silence in my castle everyday, Is just the calm before a storm.

 Wake up. Filter out the bad elements, focus on the positive elements of the dream you remember. Breathe in the sunlight, let it remind you of a new positive phase. Scribble a few things you want to forget from the past day, get rid of the burden that still remains. Stand up. Take a moment to stretch your body and smile. Make yourself some tea/coffee. Feel the warm beverage on your lips, refreshing your thoughts. Let ideas flow in your mind. Pen down the tasks you want to do today. Include self love. Breathe. Love. Be thankful.