𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐬™

The Christmas Present

Late December bloomed,
The soft winter wind
Whispering gold carols
As the two of us pass,
Hands in hands, furry coats,
In Christmas laden streets.
Every dessert smells of
Ecstasy, snowdrops dancing
Ethereally; kids sprinting
Merrily, snowman is smiling.
Pretty pines pose with all
the creative joyous decor.
All I want as my Christmas
Present is for our shared
Affection to be ever-lasting,
Ascending over the upcoming
Noels as we age. I pray, every
Year our love ripens, not wane.


#love #forhim #noël #December

December Azure

Daughterly December dawned and
I realise that hatred has crawled
Its way into my insipid bone marrow.
The blood cells now feel poisoned
With deep vitriol blue, and my breaths
Have begun emitting the blue beads
Of carbon dioxide or is it misanthropy?
It wrench my flesh, every jaundiced thought
A jab to my own heart, it bleeds just as much.
All it ever wanted was to wear gentleness
With grace, but this malicious world
Made me cover it with the cardigan of
Intentional indifference, illusionary insolence
And hide the petals of xeniality with
Ugly shaded blue sepals that no one
Would want to peep across. Guarded safe.
Alone but secure. The blues are sepals,
But they cause ripples of solitary somber
Into my breasts, half smiles and pallid legs.
After so many of these months passing,
I find my skin pierced with numerous
Thorns and my flesh bleeds dirty blues.
The armour that I wore, too had thorns
On both sides and I embraced it anyway.


#December #hatred #blues #Mishtiwrites

I Forgave Until I Didn’t

When you cut me a little
and said sorry,
I forgave.

When you held my lungs tightly,
made me wait,
suffocating in your absence,
and said sorry,
I forgave.

When you threw the heart
you stole
into the dust of fate,
and said sorry,
I forgave.

When you let my organs spill,
decaying,
soaked in your smell,
and said sorry,
I forgave.

When you cut my finger
with the ring you gave,
forced it on,
and said sorry,
I forgave.

When you held the glass of
red wine,
blood draining sweetly
down your throat,
and said sorry,
I forgave.

Now you’ve buried me,
six feet under,
the soil damp with regret.

On my grave:
“I forgave.”

But you never listened.
Never heard me—
not like you did
when I breathed.

- Achu B

One day,
when you long to be heard,
I might be there,
but deaf.
I’ll hope you gaze into my eyes,
and in that quiet,
you’ll find the answer,
without a word.

- Achu B

#Agony

Heyyy, Describe this year in a word...

Absence

Another day,
Another cliché poem,
Another unsent letter.

Too clingy,
Cringy,
Immature,
Toxic,
Obsessive,
Jealous,
Possessive,
Manipulative.

And it’s all about love.

I sleep with a million questions about you—
Whispers in the dark,
Shadows creeping,
Filling the corners of my mind.

Each thought bites down,
Gnawing at my sanity,
The way you make my heart your banquet,
Leaving scraps for me to gather—
Cold, bitter remnants,
Sharp as broken glass.

Too busy to notice,
You don’t read,
You don’t see.

At the end of the day,
I stitch answers together,
Patchwork on fraying seams,
Fragile truths,
To fend off the night.

But even then,
The shadows stay.

And in my mind and heart,
One word,
Three letters:
"YOU."

- Achu B

Where You Left Me (Past Self)

I'm sorry.
This December, I couldn't give you the sweater
you begged me for—

the one I gave you last year,
woven with my love,
now stained in blood,
buried in the snow,
beneath the ground,
beneath what's left of me—
all the pieces of you I tore apart.

A year has passed since that December 3rd.
I saw you today—
his hands wrapped around yours—
my hands,
my sweater—
the one you wore like it was nothing.

"Why would you ever kiss me?
I'm not even half as pretty."
You made me feel like I was everything.

But I gave you my sweater—
and you wore it like I was disposable.

The snow remembers.
It melts into regret,
its cold fingers gouging into my chest,
cutting through everything I gave you—
my heart, my trust, my soul.

I walked away,
to the stone that bears your name,
weeping,
the weight of your absence,
sinking deep,
crushing me—
as though you had never been mine,
as though I had never existed in your world,
like a body in the grave,
rotting beneath the earth—
skin peeling back,
flesh turning to mush,
liquid pooling in the cavity of my chest,
bones splintering beneath the weight of the soil.

But beneath it all, buried with the rest of me,
your hands—
those hands that once held mine—
now clutch my sweater—
the fabric torn,
threads unraveled,
stained with remnants of me,
the scent of earth and decay woven into the fibers.
You wear it now,
not as something soft,
but as a reminder of something broken,
tattered, undone.

As though I was never meant to be yours,
as though I never existed,
as though I was just a fading specter,
lost in the cold,
crushed beneath the soil,
melted snow turning to water,
everything we had,
slipping away.

- Achu B

Explicit.......

Gold is but a hefty Rock

My mother once told me that
I was as mesmerising as gold.
Knowing that you see me as gold
Makes me question my lack of lustre,
I know Ma that it is supposed to
Be a compliment, a pretty flower that
I'd wear on the crown of my head but
Ma, my mane is tired of the weight.
I could be gold, as you say, but
I am not burnished yet. Lackluster-
I am that raw rock whose
Weight is often overbearing.
You try to lift me up from this
Sea of self doubt and sadness
But I am just a fish jonesing for
Being in her lugubrious little lake.
Penitent I am, forgive me Ma.



~ @QuotedbyMishti_24