“My words are water; those of the great geniuses is wine. Everybody drinks water.”
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The Winter Doctor - Watcher of the Dark
My eyes are tired
The sun sleeps for most of the day
But I remain a watcher of the night
And with darkness comes death,
dying,
death of joy and comfort
birth of pain and suffering - I must watch over
and feebly attempt to fix, play god.
and while the sun and the rest of the world shields their eyes, cover themselves, keep out the pain
I have but to keep my eyes peeled
The agony washing over me while I wait for the new moon to drop and the sun to open its eyes once again.
Being an A&E doctor during the cold winter months is soul-sucking. I write my pain away. Each of my patient's faces blur into the other, the pain making them all the same. I wish I could take their agony away, but suffering defines the condition of life.
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Dried Petals
We hid flowers, white and frail, in old books Just like we hid heart ache in the folds of our tired eyelids Come another day, we will stumble across those petals, Aged by time in the same way we’ve been weathered down by the seasons Their potent fragrance stirring our nostalgia We revisit a myriad of golden moments encompassed within a momentary waft of a single flower.
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Khoya Chaand
My shaken fingers trace a looped L
a fat-lipped O sits stubbornly beside it
Absent-mindedly, the V curves into the e
Just like you would burrow your head in me
I. U.
Exactly 12 letters apart
like the 12 months that we’ve spent apart as 2 separate entities
12 moons waned, vanished, reappeared
My moon, you deserted my hungry waves
turned me arid like the desert
My tides now run unpredictable:
flooding the streets as my tears run rogue
drowning the Frail with my breath,
blowing out their light with my wind
broken hearted, I incite their death.
Oh my Khoya Chaand, my loving gracious moon
you shaped me, moulding my waters as I grew
now when I crave your scent, you took flight, far you flew
you left me Chaand, left me way too soon
I now lie still for without your gaze
my water, it runs askew
if I dance, I prance without your glance
I run the risk of staying subdued
I wish how I wish for your sculpted arms,
lifting me out my state of perpetual alarm
so my lifeless form can take birth once again
to briefly hold love, age-old, such which captivates men.
Not a spare pitiful glance
not once did you turn back
all that stands here is silent music, a motionless dance.
left to be carved on love’s headstone plaque.
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“There are so many things I could say but all my heart feels is pain.”
— kenzie lawson
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In the harshest of faces, there calls out to me, in moments as silent as whispers, the best kind of beauty, the type that is wrapped delicately within imperfection.
And then I falter - for I must fall hopelessly in love with all things beautiful, no matter how transient.
-a.s.words
#wnq writers#wnq poetry#poets on tumblr#poetry#love poem#spilled words#excerpts from my writing#spilled ink#spilled in poetry#rejectscorner
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You know the worst part is, that the deepest parts of me still loves oh so intensely the most intimate and childish parts of them.
The way she'd nuzzle her nose in my neck
The way he'd grin and his eyes would glisten with mischief.
These are parts of people I can't un-love. I wish I could love them again.
#wnq writers#spilled ink#rejectscorner#love poem#spilled words#poets on tumblr#excerpts from my writing
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“I stand here sweaty palmed in the cold ruthless arms of my dizzying wind. The wind’s abusive arms hugs me not like you did, its different, but it’ll do . I search for love in its sharp limbs but yet it leaves me cold while you hold someone else warm close to your chest I stand here sweaty palmed in the cold ruthless arms of my dizzying wind.”
—
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Clothed
Just hide your body in me
While I wear your warmth on my body
Let me be the warm mug that your fingers wrap around
Dressing my being in the silk spun off your lips
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Somehow I had forgotten how to feel underneath love's touch But tonight's thirst-quenching gaze swimming within your watery eyes made me feel all of love's fervor from over a thousand nights since. It rose, a colossal wave baptising me as I drowned whole, Putting out ruinous fires that burnt for light years alongside my now dissolved agony. You've christened me with nothing but your love.
Saved
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Passionate love doesn't whistle on my lips in the way that it used to roll off like songs flowing out my swallow's beak; It's cacophonous in the way a raven cackles, mocking the symphony that existed once now turned barely into a satisfactory melody.
I can’t sing love’s tunes like I used to
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On evenings like this, I’d like to hold his hand and walk - Both of us golden in the sparse faded rays of old heartbreak’s dusk And as night settles the leaves fall circling to the ground Only to enter a new babied morn with me and a newfound love enclosed within his arms.
(via introspectiveelephant)
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Fill my void
There’s a void I feel Climbing into bed without hearing him say Aaja jaana There’s a void I feel when I don’t have his arms to clamber into
All I feel is the ghost of his stubble brushing against my neck his fingers tracing circles on the insides of my arm his breathe blowing dreams of our future into my head
There’s a void I feel when his chest isn’t here as my pillow Our nest is empty and my insides are cold and hollow And all I await is for his warmth to breathe colour into me.
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You fill my nights with furtive glances teasing fingers fidgeting feet and words that linger.
You left words on my lips
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Dragonheart
She breathes a fire that he watches like a work of art. Seduced by her innocence, He follows in suit For little does he intuit That what follows is the penance Of an insurmountable pursuit. She breathes fire into his cold heart.
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He offered me roses But there are too many thorns in me For him to be my rose.
When the thorn pricks the rose
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Even winking stars have not the enticing fires to make me swoon like her tenacious gaze.
I search for her eyes
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Talking to you is like talking to caves that are unable to resound with an empathizing echo.
Cave talk
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