​THE INANE POETESS

Did the words leave her hanging 

or have she left them scattered?

Soaked and smashed on the ground–

Not a single meaning could be found.
So nonsense verses were written,

As the poetess lost her rhythm;
Like a lunatic, she just keeps humming–

Mindlessly tapping her fingers, eyes aren’t shining;
Like how it used to,

As she sings along with the wind,

And the stars dance as the melody plays,

Blinking her scars away.
Yet the song stopped–

And so did she.

Lost in the  darkest, loneliest, 

And unforgiving sea.

Disclaimer: The sketch is originally a pinterest photo.  Let’s say I’m a copycat.  Harhar.  Ctto.  😚

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​100-Word Story: Unspoken Words

“I love you,” I whispered to her ear. 

She’s sleepy yet she fights it. She’s still waiting for someone,  and she doesn’t know he’s already beside her. 

She curiously stared at me like I’m a stranger. I smiled sadly. For a moment she just studied my face before slowly smiling with misty eyes.

“I wish my son would also tell me that,” she whispered between labored breaths. 

I couldn’t help but silently cry. I never told her I love her before Alzheimer’s hit her,  and no matter how many times I utter those words now,  she wouldn’t remember me anymore.

Nineteenth Entry

I heard you say my name,
As you dropped and tapped my window pane;
Making your way down in bliss,
And my name became a masterpiece.

I heard you sing a melody,
The one that’s been in my head.
As I patiently waited for your fall,
I hummed the song instead.

And so I whisper the feelings
I feel when you fall;
And let you soak my soul.
Your sound creeping to my deepest griefs,
And once again I am whole.

Dear you,

Nope.
It’s not the rain that you hate
But the memories that come crashing down
When the little drops meet the ground.
Those days you couldn’t replay,
Like a photo you could look back to,
But could never live on anymore.
The thought of a place you couldn’t be in,
As the tiny crystals shine in delight through your window pane.
It’s the song you used to sing,
But now you hate to hear
As the raindrops fall to the roof,
With the perfect melody
That hums as your heart beats.

Nope,
It’s not the rain you hate,
But the emptiness you feel,
For things you could’ve
or could’ve not done.
Nope,
It’s not the rain you hate.
You love the sound it creates,
Like a lullaby on sleepless nights.
You love how it make its way down
On your glass window
As you trace them with your fingertips.
You love how each drop feels
Against your skin
Against your palm,
Against your face
Welcoming every tear.
Nope,
It’s not the rain you hate,
But the things
that made you think you hate it.
So dear,
See how beautiful the rain is.
It does remind you of pain,
But mirth always comes with it.

With a drop of my own rain,
Vier.

Letters From Vier

Letters. They’re just letters. I might or might not send it. You might or might not read them. You might or might not want to write a response. Nonetheless, let me keep them. Let me scribble the words I could never say. Let me tell you what you should or should not know.  Just let me.

Let me write you a letter.

(Decided to create an fb page. Page name is on the title. You can visit if you’d like. Cheers!:))

Dear Vier,

Being alone doesn’t mean you’re lonely. It just means that you are comfortable with yourself.  You enjoy your own company. You know yourself better than anybody else. You like doing things on your own as you like the feeling of fulfillment it brings. You like watching the world go on as if it’s a movie scene. You like wandering on earth with no one to hinder your adventure. You like staying on the corner to have your own peace of mind. You like painting your own world with the colors that define you. You are just being you. No need to fret, no need to mind how people see you. No matter how they think that your a weirdo, that you are depriving yourself by not trying to fit in, you know better. You know that you’re doing just fine.  You are contented with the peace and simplicity of your world. You have a different way of having fun, yes, but you are happy. I know you are.

Typing with care,
3R

PS. Have a good night sleep. You deserve it.

To The Broken Ones

If you are broken, go and fix yourself. Do not wait for someone to pick up the tiny pieces of your fucked up life. Because once they are able to gather up every single piece of your being into its right place, they become a part of your repaired self. And when they finally decide to leave you, they will take that part with them, even without them knowing it. And the once indestructible shield they built for you becomes fragile.

You then start to fall into the tiniest pieces of emptiness and grief. You are left there on the ground to be blown away by the harsh wind.

So fix yourself. Take all the time you need. It doesn’t matter how long it would take before you can save yourself. It might be a long, tiring process, but it will all be worth it. You will be carefree and brave enough to face any possibilies, for whatever happens, you know that you have yourself to help you get up when you stumble. You will be your own hero.You will be your own strength.

So fix yourself, because no one can really save anybody else from their own inner issues. No one knows you better than you do. No one can ever fix you but yourself. Yes, no one but YOU.

A G E R I C A

I’ve been trying to put it into words.
I’ve been trying to put YOU into words.
Type.
Delete.
Retype.
Delete.
Contemplate.
Hesitate.
Retype.
And the cycle goes on and on.

What shall I say about you?
Would it even give justice to the greatest woman I’ve ever known?
Would it be enough to tell the world,
That you are my everything and more?

Words are never our way to reach out.
And so I know that words won’t be enough.
I just wanted to write a poem for thee.
But all I can scribble is your name,
And that’s what the whole world means to me.