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Say a few words. ~ Rachel

A search for happiness is nothing but finding a home in a hearts of few so safe..that you cant help but keep trying to stay in. Hope yall still want in.
~Shraddha

In a while,looking at a few old words you wrote once,
some being those, which makes you wonder how you wrote it,
unless you got that ardour , that small drug you were addicted with,that small shelter, that old family. Makes you silent.

In a while, now writing a few words. And that exhilation to share it,ain't the same. And you think about the old time.
Makes you silent again.
~ Manisha.

One day when I get superpowers (ahem), I'd ask you to hold my hands and I would make you see what I see. Feel, How I feel. I would want to have you look at the world, the stars, the moon, the ocean, the way I see them. And in that maelstrom of visions I would get to see the world in your image. Experience this sanctum through your eyes. And then when I write, that would be my greatest work ever. Because It would have been written by all of us and none of us. But I don't have superpowers, so lets make this place, the sanctum in my dream.
~Sharad


Monday, April 4, 2011

In Dying

And so the mist swelled up from the snow
dancing in its own gloom glow.
Swallowing sun rays whole.
The roses crippled in the darkened night
begging for the return of light.
To burn out the blight.

Gold hues abandoned the circlet in the sky
and dust replaced the eye.
Permanence in sight.
No more in love's ache and never in hurt.
A frail existence subverted,


And for the body?
Burn it.

Cold Showers...

In the cold light of the morning,
there you are standing up my dreams,
and I try to hold it just a second longer,
just to see you smile then fade away.

Trickling down my body like cold water,
not sure I could take it, but too painful to resist,
And I can smell the hope and faith mix in blood and soap,
as you wash it down my drain and cease to exist.

Looking into that ugly mirror,
I see a reflection of white kissed blue,
and when this ice heart melts in shades of red,
I can only search for the fire that is you.

And in some unseen territory,
I imagine the source from where your light shines through,
but as fiction builds inside my lonely head,
wonder if I really know you.

Sitting on granite, chalking dreams,
theres a comfort this cold floor cant deny,
easing into corners, shaken, crawling by the walls,
with etches of my fingers beginning to seep in.

Looking past the grill outside my window,
couldnt find myself waiting for this day to begin,
and when Il smile like a child when an airplane goes by
Il still wonder if it were you
Il still want to go home

Somewhere I know I'm really all alone.



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~Shraddha

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