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Demise
As raindrops chased each other down the window pane, her lips, passionately, chased the trail left behind by her inked fingers on his icy cold body which was now ready to get buried down in the cemetery. That day, the sky cried.
'So, who inspires you?' 'The tiny dots which nonchalantly decorate the night by their mere presence in the infinite dark sky inspire me. Sometimes, you need to embrace the darkness to unleash your dazzling self. Stars! They truly inspire me.'
Her soul was the color of the soft rays of the sun providing warmth to him on all those cold days whenever he found himself astray. No wonder why the brightest star envied her.
She fell only to rise again. Strong she was, stronger she will be now.
You like to read beautiful stories. Are you living one too?
Am I living enough?
When you can’t feel the essence of your existence, Feel the petrichor wafting after the rain. Listen to the magical symphony too, beside the window pane.
When the bedlam seems to be deafening, Listen to the secret murmur of the rivers. Watch the ripples of water, mysteriously vanishing and quiver.
When the veins seem to be brimming with words, Let the unspoken reach out to that person. Paint beautiful paintings with words in different verses often.
When dubious about your present actions, For once, let go of all the blues. And find yourself time to gaze at the pretty hues.
When the dawn doesn’t seem any near, Dance in the twilight to the music which the night sings. Stare at the shimmering dots in the sky, wink.
When you get tired of skirting around the truth, Embrace the inevitable entanglement. Because there can never be a better vent.
When the world seems to be unwelcoming, Don’t let your wonderings settle at bay. Rather make your glittery tales fly setting aside the clouds of gray.
Just when the negative forces bully you to give up, Sit back and ask yourself- ‘Am I living enough?’
The love continues
Only if the stars knew to glitter like her eyes, ‌Only if the breeze knew to hold him tight in arms like hers, ‌Only if the sun knew to give him the warmth like her subtle breaths, ‌Only if the water knew to run through his hair like her fingers, ‌Only if the night sky knew to weave untold stories like her lips, ‌he would let her go. ‌Her name is scratched down on the grave in cursive, ‌a much deeper impression is on his soul, He still walks holding hands with her in the water waves, Her eyes are kissed by him, today too, every morning, Under the dim moonlight, they talk about uncanny mysteries, She isn’t deceased, Because he has kept her alive in his thoughts, Disregarding the laws of mortality, She exists in him, in every part of his. At 23, they met at 123, Baker street, At 60 today, they continue to meet in the cemetery.
Every star in the sky casts a sunset somewhere.
wordsbyt (via wnq-writers)
The beauty lingers in disguise.
