The battleground is my cathedral, But, there’s more to the story, than what it appears. A war written story, from blood and from tears. My son went to war, a very proud man. He fought in Rajasthan, on the hot desert sands. He witnessed his buddies, his comrades, his men, bleeding and dying, he witnessed
I can feel my lungs collapsing with every shallow breath and I can’t decide if it’s the holes left behind, from cigarette smoke burns, Or the pieces of me that followed behind you. It’s 1:05 now and as much as I keep trying to warp the truth, the minutes tick on leaving me stranded in
The sadness came and it didn’t look like you or the words that erupted like volcanoes from your vocal cords. It looked like me with my eyes wide watching every mistake I’ve ever made in the mirror on my bathroom wall. It looked like every last drop of alcohol that comforts my throat at 10
The mole above his lip, at the left side, the way his lips curled when he smiled, the way he adjusted his specs and his messy hair fell on his forehead… Yup… I fell head over heels within a few fragments of time…but didn’t mean you knew everything about me likewise. But, if you are
Sparkling eyes and tender flesh are shielded From the world in a tight hug. A photograph captures my father’s love. Gentle waves come home to shore, sloshing against the sand, A constant in this changing land. The sunset paints the azure sky, And its fiery orb disappears into cool gray water. A paradise in a
Little boy Who do you weep? A father? A mother? A sister drowned in a river so deep Little boy Why do you weep? the colorful holiday has turned bleak Happy children drowned Corpses drifted along the stream Dawn began with joy And the sun sat with grief Little boy Don’t hide your tears For
Her thoughts were rancid, like bile in the back of the throat, because her insides were rotting away, infected by the black, putrid thing that she called her soul. It was putrid in a way that permeated every gelatinous sinew of her body, her organs, her bones, her muscle tissue, her very skin was utterly
They say past lives don’t exist They aren’t real We just need to hear about ourselves It’s how we cope, just how we deal. We only exist until we don’t DNA is why we’re “unique” Horoscopes and the cosmos are for a mind that’s meek We romanticize as shortcuts to answers we seek. Yet we
My lipstick Stains his addictive tip His intoxicating bliss Caresses my lips Suppressing that itch Only addicts know When they crave their fix I’m addicted to his Bad habits He’s my nicotine trip So I chain smoke him every time I need a fix. I don’t know why guys smoke so much, I love my
I only wish to be by your side I wish for it every single night, but you didn’t bring me along for the ride, in fact, you didn’t take notice until I was out of sight. Bury me alive, don’t leave me at the door. I’ve been stretching this drive down to the corner store.
I look behind me, and the soft blur steadies slowly, squinted my eyes a few more times and I now see clearly. It’s a broken bridge, there’s a hollow gap, a deep emptiness that separates us. We used to share intimate little spaces, strange but familiar darkness, and the perfect amount of comfortable silence. I
Me: This is a great morning. I better make the best of my day. Paranoia: You’re probably going to get hit by a truck while crossing the road today. Me: I have a test tomorrow. I better prepare well for it. Paranoia: You won’t be able to give a test after getting hit by a
I was buried in a pleasant cemetery, Beyond the walls of the city, Near the banks of the Mississippi, When my body was stolen from the Ground. I died as I lived, languid and cold, My corpse interred beneath stone too old, My heart placid, as hard as gold, When my body was stolen from
I was ready. I was ready to fall again. ready to jump without any hesitation. To see my lips form a smile for another person. To feel the butterflies in my stomach come alive again. To know that I’m falling and someone’s going to catch me, as soon as possible, before I hit the ground
He winces from the pain, She bleeds from her bruises, While they watch and laugh together. It hurts to move. He wants to slit his wrists, She cries herself to sleep, And they have no regrets. It hurts to blink. He vows to fight them, She promises to stand up, But they hit back harder.
She lays on one side, and he lays on the other. she is a beautiful flower against the brutalized landscape, he, thistle and thorn on a path rightfully left untrodden.
She had love entranced into every part of her being. her skin was woven with love her heart pumped love yet, she felt miserable. Her eyes captured the view outside, a melancholic painting. the gloomy weather, the dark trees. the silence coming from the still of life and besides the rustling of trees from the
I deeply apologize that your fingertip’s burnt as you touch mine. I deeply apologize that you learn about pain but I’ve memorized it. For I myself, don’t know why my love burns those who try. If you want to connect with me, follow me here- Insta- pia.majumdar Twitter- Pia Majumdar New story at Wattpad- Will
“Let’s take the night into the morning!” read Deep loudly from Rumi’s cell phone. “What’s that supposed to mean? What’s going on here?” Deep had asked. Rumi had feigned ignorance while grabbing the phone from him citing that she was surprised herself as to how that ‘person’ had got her number. She was well aware
Let yourself be free from shackles that are holding you back from moving forward. Let yourself, be free ❤ I am in an amazing mood you see, will be right back with a new banger(I mean story), stay tuned friends 😉 ❤ 🙂 Let’s connect- Instagram- Pia Majumdar Twitter- Pia Majumdar
Here’s a new poem, I wrote this while I was having my cold coffee and bf started to leave. Although he just left for work, l wrote the poem signifying the absence of your lover when you break up. Hurts a lot, sadly 😭🤧 Anyways, don’t worry guys, everything is okay 😍✌️ My iced coffee