musing on quarter night

The tempestuous current in front of us upsets me, I wish there was a way for me to pick it up, pack it in a sturdy ruck sack and toss is somewhere far away, without a single worry for its return.

But I guess that’s not possible.

I guess this is one of the many things we’ve to go through together, whether we like it or not.

There will always be paths we take and choices we make in life that will either break us or make us stronger. I hope that we know and choose the latter .

There is no one to blame.

They Say it’s always easier when there is someone or something to blame. But I can’t blame you and you can’t blame me;

So I guess we end up blaming life and the little cracks in between.

I don’t want you to feel dejected, and despondent. I guess I don’t want to suffocate, and trample you with my stagnant and protective life. I’m sorry I can’t do anything to make you feel better, though I really wish I could.

I guess love just isn’t enough to turn someone’s sunken cheek up, Love isn’t enough to hold two people together

inspite of their differences.

I guess sometimes there’s really nothing much you or anyone can say and do.

I guess time is an enemy we need to learn to use wisely and love. Time is an opportunity to believe, nurture and grow, Time can be a poison as much as it can be a medicine.

I guess hope is not for deluded and the blinded; hope is for the seekers and believers. I guess there will always be a glimpse of hope in this already wrecked life.

Because without hope, we will all lose;

We will all die a little inside.

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Meteor

You were like the meteor

That Descended into the atmosphere with such an incredible force, your light so bright, it blazed the inky black sky.

Everyone stood in awe admiring the spectacle on the dark shores of the night sky.

What a magnificent sight it was .

Then, all of a sudden, it come crashing down, tearing through the unexpecting ground, among the admirers, without a tiny shred of mercy.

I never understood and I think never will.

How something so beautiful could also be so ruthless ?

I want to be . . .

I don’t want to be

The name in your blocked list , and neither do I want to be a forgotten contact.

I don’t want to be a phase in your life, or your flavor of the month. I don’t want to be forgotten smudge of a handprint on your window pane.

I want to be

Dried lavenders you keep between the page of an old romatic classic, and I want to be the beautiful handwritten letters that you keep under your pillow, holding them close to your heart at night. I want to be the pearls from a broken necklace you’ve been treasuring for age, your wristwatch that you always wear on your right hand.

I want to be

Sweatshirt that carries your fragrance and be an old blanket that keep you warm on a cold winter night. I want to be reason behind your smiles, and I want to be your muse, be someone who you think about on your lonely night.

I want to be the girl in your story, which you will very fondly tell your children before their bedtime, under the starry night sky, a light smile playing on your lips while doing so.

(Artwork By unknow)

Sigh (Collaboration with Ahtisham’s)

I wonder……
Will I ever be whole again
How could I….
When a part of me
Has been taken away by you

I wonder…..
Will my eyes ever feel the touch
Of the sun again
How could it be…..
When this rainy season
Seems won’t go away

I wish…….
For you to listen
My silence
I wish……
For you to hear
My inner voice
Calling out your name
Screaming in pain

But….
You keep walking
And never once
You turned to look me in the face
Savagely….
You ripped out my heart
And left me here
To die with your memories

By Ana *—————-*

You wonder…
You are whole with a cute Aimma’s
I lost myself in the tradition of life spam

Why you wonder when i am always in you
How can you vanish me when you know the rain will slip out me away from your pupil garden

I can listen & wish could do as well to fulfill your inner most wishes so will never scream again

I been always there for you yet you watched how i walk away
If i ripped out your heart you know that was never my wish

I never wanted you to die with My memories

By Ahtisham

Pictures by unknown

Dream of beautiful lies

I have disappeared like a drop of vinegar in ocean of honey .

My smiled has reappeared, submerged in a garden of crimson red roses .

Thorns are drenched, and stems are thick, like the love of virgin Mary’s newborn.

My leg crossed, and I will wait till dusk, for you to return home, our lips and lust.

Do not forget the water that will wash off dirt, yesterday’s ugly and tomorrow’s hurt.

Now rest your head and close your eyes, allow your dreams to sink in beautiful lies.

Love was my test

Before I knew what love was, I thought it was easy like when you love, you expect to be loved back. When you give, you expect to receive something back.

When you’re hurt love can easily comfort you. I thought love was my medicine when I was hurting deeply. I thought love was my ally when the world pounded me and bombarded me with painful wounds.

I was wrong, love was my test.

Love was my enemy, love was the measurement of how I really want to spend my life with somebody. Love was never my redemption, love was there even to the point of my execution. Love stood under my umbrella. Love held me when I was drowning in my insanity.

Love stood beside me when the heavy eyes of the world judged me. Love built a roof when problems rained on me. Love taught me to dance in the rain. And when I was able to stand up and be strong again, love fulfilled his duty and then left me.

#Thankyou

Loneliness 

I know loneliness.
I know the smell of absence and the sound of laughter from the other side of the wall. The way you speak to yourself just to fill the lack of someone else. Anyone else. Anything else.
I know loneliness.
I sit at this coffee shop this morning watching the world. I actually like sitting at coffee shops by myself. The things you notice when you’re on your own, without anyone distracting you from the simple pleasure of noticing things. Like how the old man sitting across from me has been trying to scratch something that shouldn’t really be scratched in public – okay, that I file under things I wish I could un-notice. Like how the lady on the other side of the room just rather nervously re-touched her lipstick for what must have been the fifth time. She’s wearing what I’d consider a way too expensive piece of clothing. I scan the room and realize she’s alone, just like me, and it hits me that we’re not so different, that woman and I. I wonder what had happened that made noticing much less exciting to her, and now she’s seeking comfort in crimson lipstick and expensive dresses. I sit calmly in the corner with my coffee, cluttering my notebook with sketches and words while watching these people, before I make my way back to my hotel room to sleep and lose myself in another world, another dream, with no one beside me to draw me back to reality. 
I like the way I notice things and how I wouldn’t notice them if someone kept filling my mind with familiar conversations because I seek the unfamiliar. How small, ordinary routines can turn into beautiful memories. Like the way I spend every morning writing undistracted for an hour, just like how I’ve done in the last couple of years, but how a simple habit becomes something new and exciting just because you’re in a new place with unfamiliar people to watch and observe. In a coffee shop with strange cups and a new smell of their brew, and how I can simply sit in one place for hours and just be astonished, all my senses awake and sharp, and I smile even though I don’t realize, and some young man smiles back at me probably thinking the smile is for him but it’s really just because I’m simply content with my own state of excitement. Excitement for all these seemingly familiar routines, but for me, it’s all new. And how the simple habit of writing every night until I fall asleep becomes my safety, because that’s what I know, that’s what I do. But it’s still unfamiliar as entering a new land every single night because these poems, these letters, these memories transport me to different worlds where all things are possible.
And you ask why I enjoy my loneliness? Because loneliness doesn’t have to be empty if you learn to see the possibilities it brings. I have learned to look at loneliness as not an empty space but more like a blank canvass. A blank page free for you to fill. With stories, possibilities, excitement. Or the simple stillness of watching the sun rise over the horizon in silence each new morning. No one is telling me about familiar things. The world is, after all, only our perception of it.
So I’m not afraid of loneliness. It is my friend and faithful companion. And because it is teaching me. 
(Picture by unknown )