Longing to go home

I have been the perfect
in my decisions;
I still am.
I always had thought all of it,
so it doesn’t get off anyway,
but what I did forget was,
Not everyone is like me.
My decisions are perfect,
for you and for me,
and everything in between
or on edges;
I forgot, you cannot for now,
send your vision directly to them.
I hope science won’t play with it,
which I know it will do…
But still, coming back to my point,
it’s that, I tried, and again,
yet again, and one more time.
All failures and I understood,
People don’t care.
They want to make mistakes and regret.
Not blame it on them,
it’s the times and human tendency itself.
I don’t blame any but me,
to think that, I can explain them,
or even consider that, I’m right in it.
It’s just that inner voice and,
so many past days you know,
after which I said what I did.
Probably, the fallacy was lack of gut,
and taking it too long.
I wish this would have been stronger,
in me.
It isn’t.
I get on knees and literally,
put my nose down,
just to make you believe,
what I’m saying, isn’t a joke and bro,
or sis, please believe me,
I’m not insane, it’s true,
But hey, no,
don’t believe even once, even when
you know I did trusted you so blindly,
not so blindly, but almost so,
and gave you chance,
never tried to disrespect or question you
and kill me oh god,
this place isn’t mine,
I’m alone, I’m ALONE…
Please take me higher to you,
I go hopeless at times.
I’m so sick of whatever fun you say it is,
because hey, you never mean it,
it’s hilarious how easily,
I let you play your tune on me,
I’m sorry, I’m sorry dear me.
Too much to bear for you.
Kill me oh me at times I feel so.
Who to blame? but me.
I’m the wrong I know,
the fault is in me.
I tried but I can’t fake myself anymore.
This is me, oh Zeus,
Send down the Hades,
I’m tired of this Aphrodite.
Kill me, take me to the solace.
Peace. I need my own galaxy.
Where is my home?
Please, now no more fate,
I order you oh the forces,
end this… heavens… for your Olympus,
Take me to my home.
Where is it? ©err1585

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How to hate him?

He adore, and tries,
set aside his manliness
and express, caress, brings it to life.
He is so blunt and innocent,
pours out in front, like a child,
Can’t hate, can’t chide;
Just one, I wish to glide in and hide. #err1585

Writer But Not…

You know that feel when you have all those sweets, but can’t open up any, for your mom don’t allow you. 

That feel when the sky seems to close to you, but you are not able to touch it, for its too high. 

That feel when the wind is so blissful but oh! You can’t stand between the class and go outside. 

Those flowers seems so nice, but ah! They are not real. 

When you have your breathes still there inside you, but heart seem to have stopped long back. 

When you blood is still red, but on the flesh, the veins appear so green and yet the doctor says you are completely healthy.

When you have a disease unknown to anyone but still you have to say, you are fine. 
It’s that feel, if you know it…

© ritikapeace

Cold Wind Gives Warmth Sometimes

​You came in and touched

The cells, that peach, 

Those delicate fingers,

Wrapping up, on your climbers,

Tough and long.

The dashing wave of wind,

Can kiss so sweetly,

And breath me for so long. 

Mints of your lips,

Playing on the neck,

Right to left you move,

Feeling of eternal bliss

You linger on me, 

Oh, lovely wind,

What messenger you are? 

That caressing tangible affection,

You showered on these black curls,

And embraced not this skin,

But transparent soul you healed,

What a doctor you are,

Oh, never go, cold wind. 

Pores of my body, 

Calling you to flow, evermore, 

Giving me the warmth,

From your chills…

Who are you, you blow?

With all my blues, I call you again,

Please don’t stop, don’t go! 

© ritikapeace

Follow @ritikapeace on @mirakeeapp

Sometimes You Give Up

Sometimes you give up. 

You feel like that mirror,

Who was hit hard,

With that leather ball,

And crashed, shattered down,

Into billions of pieces, 

Small and large,

And you just came accumulated yourself,

Into one beautiful reflector again. 

© ritikapeace

Eternal Bliss of My Words

E, eee, e world! 

Truly an enigmatic enthusiastic 

Exuberant lovely world

Of electronic literature. 

Oh! But how I wish,

It would much more than fake. 

Oh! How I wish, 

It would have recognised, 

True aesthetical, beautiful, 

Much respectable literary holders, 

True poets and authors.

Oh! How I think, every second, 

Is our art of any use. 

Oh poor writer, 

You are no business enigma. 

You are just a poor expressionist. 

Nothing…but a writer.

Business of words… Where am I living,

Dear lord, take me far away, 

To your eternal grace. 

Even Hades would do,

If not you Jesus or Zeus? 

Nothing I wish anymore,

But my peaceful bed of words and rose.

Magic of these locutions and love. 

Follow @ritikapeace on mirakeeapp

In Archaic There is True


The blue clots, 

Crimson clouds, 

And all you’ll see,

Is nothing but things,

All upside down. 
The historic mounts,

And the raged crowns,

All that’s was history,

Is a mess of things,

Experiments all performed. 
The politics

And the philosophy,

Mythical to psychological,

Is all deep rooted, 

Have already gone up and down. 
Today is another moment,

To paint present to old.

Some old archaic re-thought,

Some new ideas getting unfold. 

In the crumbled creases,

You’ll again find something new,

You’ll know you, you’ll know true. 

© Ritika Peace