🦋👻🖤

[inconversationswithmymuse]

love in the times of cholera corona

A series of exchanges with a muse

(fantasized, but of course)

the beginning (or rather the beginning of the end of the beginning)

[inconversationswithmymuse]

Where i’m bombarded with questions on raising feral kittens, and proceed to google for extra information to appear a dignified authority on the matter.

her muse : hey

the poetess : hi

her muse : im the guy with the “kitty queries”

[inconversationswithmymuse]

Where my poetry is critiqued, and i try to comfort my bruised ego by launching into a refrain on heartbreak and its apocalyptic effect on my writing. He doesn’t buy it.

her muse : you seriously didnt just use ‘vantablack’, that’s too modern, harshly modern in fact.

want me to be brutally honest? amateurish.

the poetess : we all have phases of great sensitivity and heartbreak.

sometimes when certain people exit our lives, so does our motivation to write.

every poet is really their own harshest critic you know.

the muse has since swallowed his words on several occasions, even posting a public proclamation of the poetess’ previously unappreciated talent.

[dastargotora12]

sit with me a while. Your handwriting looks familiar. Here is the first page of my story. why don't you write your name?

[dastargotora12]

your touch raised a phoenix from smouldering ashes, your words nursed a butterfly garden under my ribs, your eyes read a novel my tears had concealed, and your love, your love wrote a saga unmatched.

[dastargotora12]

this is the kind of bookstore where the book finds you first. Novels everywhere, spilling over bookshelves, stacked to horizons on oaken countertops, wherever your fingertips caress or your vision meets, far too many skeletons on this continent. Alas, finding the right one, yours, is a clandestine tryst with ardour and fortune. I recognise this feeling. Aeons of looking and failing, papercuts, tear-stained pages till my compass ever ventured in your direction.

[dastargotora12]

running my fingers over gilded edges, frayed pages, velvet and leather. Some delicate, some fortresses. Some wear oversized burgundy coats, some lavender cardigans. embossed golden, familiar typefaces. Souls touching for a brief eternity.

[dastargotora12]

crushed roses, ancient publications and crescendoes of longing. The fragrance of parchment, the sweetness of a scent that knows it belongs outside a glass valise. Do not forget me, it rustles, pervading everything, imprinting on every page my sonnets have ever uttered. smells like home. like you.

[dastargotora12]

beneath this tattered canopy of jaded symphonies, huddled amidst racks of moonflowers and bouquets of sunflowers, there is silence. meet me here.

[dastargotora12]

single lanes, a two-way street. nestled in between. Amidst the hustle of a thousand splendid stories, next to a train thundering past,  not unlike the way you became the protagonist of mine.

[dastargotora12]

the bookshop at the 22nd railway crossing

reader’s paradise: a bookstore (romanticised)

[dazrraqarara]

i knew then , love exists and you had come for me  . i knew then i wanted to spend the rest of my life with you and create infinite infinities . i knew then i loved you and i would love you even after this universe met it's end .

i love you .

[dazrraqarara]

i knew my dream was now a reality,  and magic existed in our  world when i saw you laugh , when i saw you laugh because of me , when you called me yours for the first time , when you told me i had healed you and when you looked into my eyes and spoke ' i love you ' .

[dazrraqarara]

the cigarettes burnt in the dead of the night in cold bathrooms , staring at my own reflection in a pool of water , disgusted, the breeze of the night soothing the burns of my soul .

then suddenly you arrived , unexpected , uprooting everything , chaotic beautiful , all efforts to keep you out for the sake of fears deep seated trampled down by your love as the flowers growing by the roadsides must have been murdered as the great armies would have marched by at the behest of their leaders , on their way to sacrifice their lives  .

[dazrraqarara]

it had been so long , hope had started waning , wished for you my entire life . the nights spent awake till dawn broke , crying under the blankets to be protected from this world , willing for you to turn into a reality with the full force of my entire being . dreamt for you with eyes wide awake , on lonely walks through the grey corridors or a stroll into the woods , searching for you , waiting for you , it started to seem like you couldn't exist outside my imagination .

[dazrraqarara]

khwaab