#inksoftly

[inksoftly]

Me , myself and two.

Two universe, two home

One body , two soul.

Or perhaps two - who knows?

Two bed , two dream

Two fantasy, two life to live.

Two path , two choices

Two heart , two voices.

Two future, two destiny

One illusion, one reality.

One truth , one lie

One mask , one face.

One dream , one escape.

One to leave , one to chase.

One to hold , one to break

One to be free , one to bind by chain.

Too contrast, too much fight

One thing that fits in both -

Me and my mind.

@inksoftly 🍂

____________________________________

Reflecting in duality......what strikes a chord with you 👀?

How are u all doing 💟?

[inksoftly]

In the heart of Edinburgh

Burry me beneath the Edinburgh's land ,When I die ,

Let my soul float over its galactic sky.

Give me peace under sigh of the dove tree,

Where history lives in the castle and

Love flows in poetries.

Let no flower adorn my grave,

Instead build me a library, in a hollowed cave.

In Edinburgh's heart , where books abound ,

Let my soul wonder , lost yet found.

In corridor of wisdom, let me roam

Where books unfold stories and secrets are home.

In the world of words and magic , i have craved since my youth,

Let my spirit find solace and eternal truth.

≈ @inksoftly 🥀

____________________________________

They say when a city is calling you it means someone is there and your story is written.

I wonder who is in Edinburgh ❤️.

----------------------------------------------

Image from image from

Pinterest. Reddit

[inksoftly]

The boy who spoke to the wind

The milky sky was a terrace he walked on.

The soil was a soft silk sheet.

In twinkling stars, he used to find whispers.

In the moon, the scars of a wound.

Walls were his friends,

the wind was his answer.

Buds made him giggle from deep within.

His life was full of chaos and disaster.

The buds who dreamt to fly.

The buds who wished for confidence.

He smiled — a bitter one.

"I was like them, always demanding high."

A star fell from the sky, out of curiosity.

It asked:

"Why do you always sit here?

Why do you talk to them?

Why are you so different?

Why are you full of mystery?"

The star waited for his answer.

He stared at the sky, tracing the scars of the moon.

"They were my first star.

They were my first moon.

My sky, my flower, the soil that fed my roots.

But stars can be torn.

The sky can bring rain.

Flowers can give you thorns.

The moon can be swallowed by mourns.

When it happened, I broke.

The wind caught me.

The stars gave me light.

The moon told me his courageous story.

The buds sang me lullabies."

The star flickered, its smile dim.

He smiled as if he understood something.

The night turned pale.

The star returned home.

But the boy stayed,

watching the sky that once belonged to him.

≈ @inksoftly 🥀

----------------------------------------------

Not every child speaks. Some whisper to the sky instead.❤️‍🩹

You author is back 😉🔙

[inksoftly]

Your presence entered my life, smoothing the pain with a single glance, and touching the depths I didn't know were wounded.❤️‍🩹

≈ @inksoftly

____________________________________

How are you all doing? I hope everyone is fine and happy.

I am working on a poem its for someone special their birthday is coming but I am not getting any idea.

I mean how can I describe my love for them in one poem? How can I describe them in one poem? I think I will need to write a book 😂.jk jk

Have you ever done this? writing for you love one? If yes , did you ever show it to them ? What was the reaction? Share with me.❤️

PS :- you can share the poem too 😉.

I will showcase it on my blog ( credit will be yours you romantic ( menace😂) lovers , don't worry)

[inksoftly]

Where should the murderers go?

Murderers? You felt chills? Maybe. But it's not what you're thinking.

Murderers - people who have killed their own happiness.

Murderers - who have hurt themselves.

Murderers - people like us who have lived in a house made of cold stones. When we get a home made of glass, trust, love, patience, we don't know how to live in it. How to protect them, not from the world but from us, from our rages, insecurities, and from our fire.

Murderers - people like us who have got rain written in their fate get a blanket that holds them, keeps them warm. We don't know how to keep it clean from our blood and tears.

Murderers - people who have slept on thorns get a flower - so fragile, too soft. We don't know how to hold them, how to be gentle with them.

So I ask, is there a place where we can fit? Or a home that's cold from the inside? A blanket - red that will warm us and hide the bloodstains without any complaint? A flower hard as us? No... I understand."

@inksoftly 🥀

[inksoftly]

Still , I hope

I know your truth.

I know your soul.

The ones around you now

don’t know your storms at all.

I knew your fear

before your hands began to shake.

When your world collapsed,

you wept alone —

by the side of that lake.

I hope they see

the strength I always knew.

I hope they stay

when your sky loses its blue.

I hope they feel like home

when you need to run away —

that’s all I ever wanted,

anyway.

@inksoftly

___________________________________

Your author is back but this time with a light one 😉.

Life’s been harsh these days

It’s hard to watch the one you love fade away.

And you can't do anything

So you just pick a pen and paper and write what you couldn't say.🙂