Saif Madre @metaphorandmuses - Tumblr Blog

the thing is, you call yourself a war. bullets grazed across your thighs, javelins sticking out your jugular. you never let your eyes linger on someone too long, lest they trigger the grenades tucked in your collarbone. the thing is you call yourself a war darling, but did anyone ever tell you how war is just a means to peace?

love looked easier when i was twelve

it wasn’t a wreck of emotions, nor did it reek of raw grief and stinking betrayal. at twelve, love was a dream come true, a forever with wings, a promise to never cease. love, then, was an idea so beautiful it sprout wildflowers and spoke of peace immune to all chaos that comes with heart break. at twelve, love was a one way road to the pearly gates, arm in arms with a high school sweetheart or a begrudging academic rival to be a lover down the path. it was always a stroll through a supermarket, cheap bouquets and expensive chocolates you’d never buy for yourself. at twelve, love didn’t come with solitude and lingering desire to be wanted, loved. a forbidden kiss under the mistletoe, a mistake of the past, consequences in the future.

at twelve love came easy as it did in books and movies, with no touch of reality.

typiing-deactivated20240430

why would i express my feelings when i can just make jokes out of them

ritikajyala

trying to remind myself that I am an artist even on the days I do not create art

hold my hand and

let's walk to the stars

I'd sing you my favourite song

and let you play the guitar.

tell me you love me

and i'd always prove you right

in a world drowning in darkness

I'd be your ever glowing light.

we are starbucks lovers

but as broke one could be

you have the flecks in your eyes

a glimpse of home, when you look at me.

draw me in red crayon

splotches of unused paint

forget being an ugly muse

if you're the god, i'd be your saint.

we are dancing at midnight

amid the paris of nowhere

you kiss me on my lips

red cheeks, an everlasting stare.

and when we dance, hands in hand

you look like god's favourite religion

so give me the stars you've been holding on

and darling, i'd give you the sun.

sometimes i say everything's okay but there is a forbidden kiss on my lips i could never manage to erase even if i wanted to. a memory too pure to ever be tainted, a guilt beautiful enough to never regret. love may be a fool's errand but what is humanity if not dumb mistakes and decisions of heart. sometimes i say everything's okay but love always will taste like her lips.

ritikajyala

My father made me coffee every morning and put anger instead of sugar.

He had been a man of few words- never said he loved me and even his happiness was full of rage. Every night, he'd watch some game on the telly and talk about the stock market and bonds and things I never understood. I remember when the newspaper began to publish my articles, he barely read them and gave me a nod as if to show his acknowledgement. One day, I looked into his drawer to find some batteries and noticed a stack of newspaper cuttings, articles and poems and photographs, all of my work- the borders cut with such tenderness and care, I couldn't believe his hands could be so gentle.

My father carved me from his thigh and watered me with his blood and wondered where my rage came from. My father loved me in silence and wondered why I couldn't listen.

-Ritika Jyala, excerpt from The world is a sphere of ice and our hands are made of fire

once the laughter calmed, i fished out crumpled pages out of my back pocket and handed them to her.

"aren't you supposed to read them to me tomorrow?" you asked.

"does your curiosity permit that?"

"i think not." you said and read the paper out loud.

"i will always love you a little more than i did the day before."

"i could write you a perfectly made list of vows just like they show you in movies and books. but i am a person and sometimes a terrible one at that. sometimes recklessness could get better of me and risk breaking all of the promises I've made, which i do not wish to do. but even if the hell breaks loose, the one thing i know is i would never stop loving you."

pratiquejadhav

morepeachyogurt

a compilation of things that make me believe in the world; dedicated to my friends elle, grace, sophia, and simi <3

@honeytuesday // anne carson // jack kerouac // @morepeachyogurt // alice walker // @petalsinfall // sandra simonds // louise glück // wendy cope // mary oliver // @moonbirdy // @boysaints // john cage // ross gay // @sunbathe // lorde // jenny han // emily dickinson // source // minecraft end poem by julian gough // lorde // doris dana // coldplay; @moonlockscreensz // grace vanderwaal // mary oliver // @eisayshi // @icarusgf // @theorangepdf // arnold lobel // @peoplehood // @sequin-covered-swans // schuyler peck // alivia horsley // madisen kuhn // danusha laméris // @rednet-remade // leslie feinberg // eden robinson // lorde

aseaofquotes

Emery Lord, The Start of Me and You

morepeachyogurt

a compilation of things that make me believe in the world; dedicated to my friends elle, grace, sophia, and simi <3

@honeytuesday // anne carson // jack kerouac // @morepeachyogurt // alice walker // @petalsinfall // sandra simonds // louise glück // wendy cope // mary oliver // @moonbirdy // @boysaints // john cage // ross gay // @sunbathe // lorde // jenny han // emily dickinson // source // minecraft end poem by julian gough // lorde // doris dana // coldplay; @moonlockscreensz // grace vanderwaal // mary oliver // @eisayshi // @icarusgf // @theorangepdf // arnold lobel // @peoplehood // @sequin-covered-swans // schuyler peck // alivia horsley // madisen kuhn // danusha laméris // @rednet-remade // leslie feinberg // eden robinson // lorde

ritikajyala

He asked me when I fell in love with him and I knew it sounded dramatic to say the moment I saw him, so I told him this story of my grandma who had Alzheimer's- she forgot her name and the words for fruit and food, she forgot her address and how to use the washroom, all her life lost to the disease. The only thing she remembered was her son's name and when that began to fade, the one thing she always remembered was that she loved him, even in illness, even in insanity. She saw this 6 foot 2 man with a scrubby beard and she didn't know him but she said she trusted him, she asked him to hold her hand when she died. When does memory end and love begin? All I know is- she loved him before she remembered him.

-Ritika Jyala, excerpt from The world is a sphere of ice and our hands are made of fire

drewlover

percy and annabeth yin and yang annabeth being seen as made of marble and stoic and the perfect leader but then she smiles - she smiles and everything kind of stops and suddenly sunlight is filling the entire room and bright and lovely and beautiful and not so cold then u have percy who’s all smirks and mischievous smiles and that wonderful light in his eyes but then he pauses and there’s danger there’s coldness there’s nothing and he’s empty and he’s dark and he’s everything you want to steer clear of