Skip to main content

debt

A little memory of this
a little memory of the kiss
a little memory of that diss
and a little memory of that silent kiss that she used to hiss on my ears
 yea this heart still cares
for her and stares
into the lair
of memories
 she planted the trees
 she planted the seeds
 that would leech off my delinquency so I owe her that
 and even though our relation was short last
 it made me grow
 and made me able to stand toe to toe
with fate
she made
 me a better person so I owe her something
#promise
 (even after almost four months of break up with her… she still haunts me. yea we broke up but I guess it was a good thing for both of us. Her memory still haunts me but I’ve learned to live with it just like I’ve learned to live with the memories of #pandu or with the  what little memory I have of #pinch_of _hop and I’ve grown a lot sine then. I’ve learned a lot since then. So I guess I owe her for turning me into what a rubiks cube I’ve become. Hehe)
-yakaa: jujaa

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

memor....hallucination

that cute little butt of hers those beautifull brunette curls that flows across her face yeah the same one with button nose and her smile the one that goes all the way to her heart it was nothing but a lie oh why did i had to lie??? why did i had to break that promise i made her yeah i cried but tears stopped right before they reached my eyes i had a reason for ending it and she knew it every bit so well: even more than me that she could tell what i had to say hello miss cuddles! well you ain't there thats just my hallucination please don't stare at me i can't bare to see you go, where are you now??? nowhere but in my brain -yakaa: jujaa #felicity (i wrote this one some two years back. back then i was called eklo yatri. meanings the same it's just a matter of language. dedicated to felicity. she meant the world to me. n even though we have drifted apart i still hallucinate her voice)
3 comments
Read more

when a writer dies

A lot has been said  a lot had to be said that's what we do, we the word warriors that's what we do, we the hurt worriers that's at times all we have that's at times all we can slap others with, our mode of expression that's the skill we have chosen to hone after years and years of jolting down useless lines after days and months of thinking through times through times of worries and through times of stress word has been our last line of defense the things written but unspoken the lines written from the heart that is broken yes, that is the only thing we have at most times the only place where we can safely whine but there comes a time when all of it stops, There comes a time when the pen drops and that is what we consider our death when all that needs to be said has been said or when the last hope of hope has been laid to rest that's when we have lost interest not in our craft but in our lives that is when a writer truly dies and writers block is not the death ...
Post a Comment
Read more

bad day

he's shaking now everybody's wondering how well how about him wanting to shout that he is stressed the darkness has carassed his forehead and given him the dark kiss he's vomited twice and has a loose shit and he's being torn apart bit by bit his anxiety's more than just waist deep his WiFi's dead so no distractions and his stomach's been upturned by constant contractions yet he fights yet he writes till he sees tomorrow's light keeping a little bit of hope in sight but he can't contact his love and he is worried cause he has to shove more pills into his throat no more load he says yet sleep's not on its way it's been one of the worst days and on the floor he lays under the dark sky believing his own lies knowing that he is weak but still believing that he is growing stronger with each passing breakdowns -yakss: jujaa (i actually wrote this poem about a week earlier but as i already said, no WiFi to upload. it w...
5 comments
Read more