Sitting, listening to symphony,

Which can’t be heard by anyone,

But me.

It’s inside, deep in.

Don’t dig this red mud too deep,

That instead of my feelings,

My story, my heart,

You just wound me more and leave,

It void, blank and empty,

Delusioned and darker and din…

Don’t try to hark the harps.

Don’t. ©Err1585


Pleasurable Reading

If these locutions,
And just very common lang’,
Can’t make you feel the bliss,
The blood and heart,
And that emotion,
‘crazy like any couple,
Experimenting first orgasm,
Na! I’m not good ‘af a writer.

… Transparency

Turning the pages,
Reading, grasping it all,
Stressed she played down,
Her life out,
Too alone to be helped.
The devil awakes,
Between the goods,
And she ends up,
With heart crying regret.
Hands to friends,
Mother, father and brother and sister…
All those you wish to name;
Not a servant,
A young bliss,
With blooming petals,
Rusting them as she tenderly caress.
Too alone to be saved.
“Heart of gold, painted in ugly face”
People call her so,
“Beautiful she is”,
Sitting aloof, screaming quietude,
She works alone on
Mending her brain and character
Stuck in building of concrete,
Hanging on the rope of,
“Good family, good girl is she”
… Veiling, ceiling, scratching
Her stress out,
Alone turning pages;
Intelligent and kind soul…
Just with little bag of some useless fantasies.
Not an animal, tamed so but by world,
Not with desire of defloration,
But love, care, happiness and slowly
she is rising through acceptance elevator
Rescuing herself from fake,
Steadily moving to originality;


Red Alloy

The dust and sparkle
Of your blows
Syncopated on my pages
Left the forever blot
And here I lay down
With my hands on pillow
Filling it with shades
Of transparency.
All that counts on now
Is your memories
Not moving,
Vain, vanishing…
I love to kiss your pic’
And here I do a good night sleep
With my galaxy
Transporting to the higher;
Symptoms of this disease
All mentioned above,
Are nothing but building me
Bolted and strong.

© ritikapeace

I wish…

I wish to move back to the times
When I was tiny, little, small,
Sugary for everyone,
And hope everyone see.
I wish to move back to the times
When papa held me on his shoulder,
All the caress and kisses of mom,
And the candies and comfort.
I wish to move back to the times,
I was carefree and always
Reach the hearts,
And warmth…
That warmth, I die for.
Those looks doesn’t matter.
Nothing matters, but I.

© ritikapeace