Just Call it Art ✨

⁣poems are those that make you cry. form a lump the size of black hole in your throat that you try to swallow but fail miserably while that hole swallows you whole and pushes you further into the pandora box of emotions you have kept locked in and never visited.  ⁣⁣

⁣⁣your eyes well with tears you thought had dried. like a song on loop you keep listening to its heartbeats to understand whether it is its' beauty or brokenness that has made you fall on your knees and cradle it in your arms like a mother who has seen her baby after taking few minutes to feed herself and feels guilty for that.⁣⁣

⁣⁣i don't know how to write a poem or the kind of poem which has power to mend broken hearts, heal scars and stop wars. i put together few meaningless words which would never suffice to explain how i really feel because i feel so much more than it could possibly be explained, ever. but for the sake of my sanity, i am going to try.⁣⁣

⁣⁣i feel like a golden compass sitting on the lid of a dumpster, a homeless person doesn't know what to do of. i feel like a hot glue in the hand of an artsy girl who is searching for the real gun in her father's wardrobe, to kill her pain away. i feel like a love letter sitting on a boy's desk who is afraid to tell his boy best friend that he loves him not the girl everyone is forcing him to date. ⁣⁣

⁣⁣i feel like a sketch hiding on 11 year old's digital notepad who doesn't understand instagram algorithms and has ended up giving on one thing that she loved. i feel like a love story buried under ship wreckage. i feel like freshly baked pizza slices discarded in trash can of a food loving model starving herself to be paper thin for her next photo shoot. ⁣⁣

⁣so many emotions. untold. unwanted. untamed. dripped in empathy, running wildly. flowing in my blood. i want to run away from them but monsters love to chase people scared of them. and i, i am fucking terrified of feeling anything. anymore. my head is a war zone of emotions fighting against each other to win the territory where a leftover piece of peace is home. hiding. ⁣⁣

⁣⁣you see, there is no way i will ever be able to turn all this into a poem. i will try to write and then leave it half written like my half lived life. my poem won't ever find the end that it deserves. because it deserves so much more than to be written by a person who doesn't know how to deal with her feelings. i will bring all the mess out of my head,  pour it on a blank paper. make an abstract of it and name it art. ⁣⁣

⁣⁣emotions run in circle. seems so simple but it is not. because unlike what you have been told. emotions don't have endings or beginnings. like a mirage they keep chasing the end which has no existence. it's not that hard to find the end but for that you must know from where to begin. and i, i don't know from where it all began. so like i promised, i am gonna leave this; half written. incomplete. illogical. inexplicable. like my feelings. ⁣⁣

⁣⁣astha, 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘱𝘰𝘦𝘮𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦. 𝘢𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘦.

@poetry.in.soul