Writer Speaks - Blog Posts

A weak week!

I buried my head in a pillow to bawl

Knees to my chest like a ball

I guess it was the Domino effect

Of being vulnerable, easy to affect

Sometimes my heart twists and wrings

Most often my head hurts and rings

I assure you it's not just a phase

I've tried but the feeling doesn't faze.

No one really saw the signs

Even if it's simple science

At last I cried out aloud

Louder than I was allowed.

(there's something so comforting about homophones. <3)

KINTSUGI

I learned kintsugi so I could fix my favorite broken mug.⁣

The art that meant golden joinery,⁣

Golden repair.⁣

But I never thought about what it meant.⁣

Why would I? I fixed my mug.⁣

⁣

Until I broke,⁣

Until I saw cracks within people that I love.⁣

That was the moment I realized⁣

Kintsugi isn't just for fixing ceramics⁣

It is not to say what didn't kill you made you stronger.⁣

It is to show what didn't kill you is now a part of your story.⁣

A significant piece of who you are.⁣

For better or worse,⁣

whether it made you stronger, weaker, or traumatized,⁣

It's. Still. You. ⁣

⁣

So we pick up the broken pieces of ourselves and the ones we love⁣

And we put it back together with golden glue,⁣

As best as we can.⁣

We assure our loved ones not to conceal their scars⁣

We promise them the glued parts aren't ugly.⁣

That the cracks are now like a golden vein,⁣

a vein through which ichor flows.⁣

The same ichor that Gods bled is now,⁣

Keeping us immortal for a while.⁣

A CELESTIAL INSECURITY

Is the moon envious of the sun?

And it's radiance that cannot be outdone?

Is that why she hides behind the earth?

Calls it an eclipse but, doubting her worth.

What does she see when she looks into the lake?

Her molten silver face or the distortion that ripples make?

Is this why poets always write about her desolate beauty?

Because she's more like us than any character from a movie.

A celestial body far far away

Like all our insecurities in display

How many times have we envied others radiance,

And hid away from an audience?

Doubting our worth, causing self-esteem distortion

By looking at a person's life only in portion?

So like her, we go through phases

And like her, we grow through phases.

No matter how early you read the poem 'The Road Not Taken' by Robert Frost, you are going to understand it completely only in your 20s.

Sometimes you had planned so much about a life with a certain person in it, that even a picture or a memory of them today can make you feel completely empty from inside. Although you were happily living your life on your own till yesterday and its been years of not being in touch with them.

Oscar Wilde said:

"To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist, that is all.”

And this

"With freedom, flowers, books, and the moon, who could not be perfectly happy?"

And then this

"I am tired of myself tonight, I should like to be someone else"

And now someone please tell me if I am the only one who thinks his thoughts are so similar to me...

He could have been a great friend.

All of this pain feels like it's been an eternity since I have been carrying them in my hands. I am tired now and can't walk anymore. Where do I bury the fragments of my heart?

It seems like my heart only understands what you speak, even if you speak with an absence of words.

~

m.l.w

Past lives flicker through my mind, as I stand gazing up at the moon. The night's pretty much silent, except for the slow rumbling of thunder in the distance. Every now and then, a cool breeze goes past me. I stand in the moonlight, waiting for a miracle.

You said you'd meet me here, under this old tree covered in moss. It's almost dawn now, and still no sign of you. I have second thoughts, debating whether to turn around and go. Maybe you meant it as a joke.

Afterall, gods never fall for beings beneath them.

Sighing quietly, I start walking back to my home. It was a waste of time, I realise now. I should've never trusted your words.

I pass the lavender patch, and a familiar fragrance hits me. Smiling at the full blooms around me, I sit down on the damp earth and close my eyes. The smell of lavender takes me back to my favourite memory. You sitting beside me as I laugh at your joke.

I open my eyes and find that my vision has blurred. I hate crying but that's all I wanna do right now. Feeling like stones sinking in my stomach, I lay my head in the ground and weep.

The night has become a tired dream, and the stars have gone and hid.

But when you slowly started wiping my tears away, I felt like the world was holding its breath. I sit up and lock eyes with you.

"I thought you wouldn't come" I said in a barely there whisper.

"I wanted to make sure that you were serious about this. About us." You replied in an equally quiet whisper.

"So you were testing me? " I ask with fresh tears in my eyes.

"Not really. More like I was testing myself. And I failed. When the first tear ran down your face, it felt like I was stabbed here." You take my hands and place it over your heart.

And surprisingly enough I felt it beat.

And that hasn't happened in a long time.

© Moonyloonywitch

26/08/2021

I was a child of the desert from a very young age, even though now I am more closer to the sea. This was inspired by my many trips to deserts during my childhood, and of course Paulo Coelho's Alchemist.

Deserts have always seemed magical to me. Their golden sunsets and brilliant night skies have kept me in awe forever. It's almost like having a universe and space right here on this Earth.

(ps : Sahara simply means desert in Arabic. I came up with the part about moon just for the story. )

Today I taste wine

It's very repetitive when I say these words in my head. At least in my head nobody turns back and frowns or runs away from my reach.

I don't lose anything in my head .

I could scream these words out to the blankness that rests inside my head and I'll be perfectly fine. Nothing will die or cease to exist. Most things are alive in my head and only in my head. So when I tell my lips to smile as I hear you laugh, the vastness of the universe tries to stop and stare at you.

I smile and the passing clouds are so bashful that they tint red.

Oh and the rivers are chuckling to themselves.

I've told them about you and they think you could be sunshine or probably words in libraries that great people write.

I write about you like an aftertaste of wine and cake that I had that day. I write about you and the papers try to tell me to be sad because when people leave that's what you are supposed to be. Sad .

@ineluctablehere

Im writting a book, Im not trying to kill someone.....real.

If you see me searching "How a Mafia works and How do you join it " Don't question it