@_SereneWaters_
https://www.wattpad.com/story/292948301?utm_source=android&utm_medium=link&utm_content=story_info&wp_page=story_details_button&wp_uname=Shamna_bint_ashraf&wp_originator=F3Xr0DQUf2KHataFP3Q1AHgZzt5Wo%2FQKKlCHuyGDOm%2FXyZkD7EEVf%2BBa471Pt8NiJu15yFbOsFwjWdzEVJE1mkrUSVXwLgmffDURABYwRkVmjNZ08%2BYOx4jqv%2FJrmFXY Hello, if you have some time could you please check this book out dear ? I would be grateful and sorry for distrubing you in any way. Thank you
Hey
Hope you are doing well if you have some time please check out my stories
1.My Mom's Personal Diary
2. Another MATCH MADE IN HEAVEN
3.Longing Hearts 2
And
4. Another Hate Love Story
Last two are sequel of Another MATCH MADE IN HEAVEN, which is my most loved and readed book.
They all are complete books, I Hope you will like them
_Naaz Jamal
kidney touching words seriously
girl your about is ossmmmmmmmm
a small token of kindness (22nd March 2022)
the tears of the pianos, graves of sunken breaths; courageous sins, museums of agonies. hymns of homes, suffocated lungs; limited heartbeats, life of a quarter. coffee crowds, memory ghosts; mad touches and fragmented routes. veins avoided, night inspirations; apathetic ambiguities, rainbow tinges.
lonely embraces, curtained eyes; a void of white and a concealment of dewy pride. today deaths and tomorrow births; pigeon wings and the delight of darkened blood. stained apologies, glass sermons; reincarnated knees, candle shelves. shells of fantasy, pigmented treasures; halls of power, wolf of lust.
blue and flowers, emerald and topaz; grass of laughter, velvet hold. ink of spine, ocean depths; numbing praises, sugar- like rust. a shard of grief, a war of sickness; a woman of one, a woman of million. a broken petal of grace, a shade of march; a human beneath it, a prisoner on its soil.
mint foam, sweetened moonshine; honey blades, dark grains. foxes of faith, wings like knives; a mirror that looks, a mirror of judgments. year of beds, unmade sheets and blankets; biscuit crumbs; lungs left in black pockets. a suspended leaf and a heart of migration- where has it been held? it has merely been left to the vultures.
#adropofhumanity
a small token of kindness (13th February 2022)
burning soulmates, strained hopes; braided yearnings, captive dreams. passion- borne blood, water an invisible vesper; moon a poet's literature, soil a paper of hunger. a predator, a musketeer, a thunder; a matchstick, a street of bougainvilleas, half a nail lost, flesh to rust.
worn arms, ragged pleasures; clean madness, innocent errors. veins of solitude, beats of courage; a farewell to religious laps, to a moon with brave life. mistakes and spaces in ribs, hearts choking in sin; rhetoric trees and murdered portraits in lights of the quiet.
ashes of nursery amethysts, stories worth centuries within; glass of a new born fist, hope dangling over a pit of abyss. authentic prison, protection from touches; suspended lungs, pessimism a curse blind. foetal hearts and shrunken graves, suffering mirrors and homely miscarriages.
evolution of art, sugar theft; white oleander tickles and bleeding disguises of virtues. a city of ciphers, mountains of parables; consumed violins, bruises of metal and blood. to the eyes find that nothing old or worn, and for the hearts that see no flaws and prickles, there is no death. like the moon and the sun that have not aged; human hearts as these reside as the 'oud of time.
#adropofhumanity
a small token of kindness (08h February 2022)
vanilla tides, porcelain skies; insurgence of the ganges and anatomies birthed in the womb. lavender pulses, foxgloves of disappointments; afternoon intoxications and stings of moon's salted craters. covenant slippers of sweat, storms of acidic sin; limbs of serenity, heart a serpent's spine.
wandering knees, furnace meadows; prairie blades, malbec- blurred palms. atlases of ribs, the eyes a stoic bleeding blues; firmament of human organs, the universe a galaxy with it. violent emotions, frigid compromises; people water, their bones abandoned orphans.
kolkwitzia like the thames, fossils of fame; life a cloak of melancholy, unlike death, of invisibility. today a parlour with letters wordless and addresses of silhouettes blind. nascent blooms and dainty gravel; how much of the truth kills one each day, how often does one lie to not develop resentment to himself?
febrile offsprings, universe a glory of margaret ache; home a graveyard, ages and agers buried. an emblem of bones, a cremated constellation; mind instructed under a veil, sky a chest of God. sun and the moon, a mind of two names; sisyphean creations, limited incantations. why is the sky allowed two wings, why must a human heart be caged with none?
#adropofhumanity
a small token of kindness
the tiny granules of the sky stuck in the sun, peppered kisses and silent ferns; cordial drinks of the numbing nemesis, ticklish hold of the rainbow-like abyss. seals of garnet springs, pebbles of the ocean's mist; drunken lilacs, lavender winds, plummeting clouds and cherry ink.
kisses of tears, buried sapphires and bones of the heart; flesh as raw as the sunset, suffering paints and hidden ganges. chirping fantasies, dead children; alive alleys and vintage frost. the moon stripped from the darkness, carried in the valves of a pumping spirit; pots of palms and eyes of ebullient epidotes.
the veins of the tingling feet, giggles of the cold wind; strokes of sand over damp cheeks, grazes of calloused fingers like ginger tea. comfort in a foreign realm; the hills of memories, the ones lost to words. mindful arguments, annotations of donated pieces; what we love, we live in it. what are souls but wild things that appreciate not their iron crescents?
mosaic metamorphosis, a breath of transparency; fibbed thirsty veins and a formal lemon drink. ghosted feelings, trembling tongue; soaring revenges, executed love. blood like tsunami, deep and desiring; heart a peacock, flower stone canvas.
one glance in the eyes of the predator, the earth is but a thousand year old rock. destruction births not from it but from the one of life, the one of branches, the silver knights. repeated cremations, fire is home; death a neighbour. like the sun and the moon, fire and cold come from within, not from around, life too an ocean, both the giver and the beggar, a dreary dream.
#adropofhumanity
a small token of kindness (07th January 2022)
troubled by the chaos of the earth, weighed upon by the barren roof, struck by the canines of responsibilities, drenched in the ocean's cold. the warm clouds hiss at the burn from the morning rays, the nightingales dedicate a melody to the rustic waves. each day a older sun rises to a newer morning, and a weaker breath from the body.
armoured kites, papered hearts, monochrome schemes, lustred bones. pleasure of the pain, burden of what is gained; bruises of the moon and its light upon our veins, behemoth skies and its anger upon the land of sinners. rosed dishes, savoury bites, the wound of tomorrow a sacrifice for the smile of today.
missed are the terraces of the burnt lips, every dream of the passed breaths. what pricks the throat but the warm sip of the coffee that reignites the vessel of sorrows, like the tentacles of an octopus, the arrows struck. timeless breeze, the wash of the early morning a moon written lullaby; decorated sins, the pleas of the saviours etched upon tender greens.
powerful is the world, glorious is its stage. a mother it is; careful with its touch, destructive with its womb. one arises to the death of another, the loom of yesterday a gust of today; yarn tangled with the hems of life, in every lung a million lines. one is terrified of the other of its kind, but the moon has never felt threatened by the sun's strength.
#adropofhumanity
a small token of kindness (9th December 2021)
the sun adorns itself with the stomach of the storm, wild with pink carnation embraces and fire of the splintered heart walls. pistachio love and fluttering skies; light a fuel, and a vanishing identity. the devil free to roam, believer a misguidance like a nightingale's sweet talk.
thunderstorms a song, the salt drops lyrics of its ventricular fins and churning sorrows. hills of skeletons, graves of souls; worship of demons and prayers of turbulent stomachs. ink of independence churned into sand and syllables; seas and oceans feasted upon like candied cartilages.
dusk fashioned claws, moon graced rages; the night a dark amaranthus, eyes curtained with sunsets. sugared wounds, salted licks; bothered ruins, hundred layered crescents. existence drowned into rose water, grief and waves floating across the womb of the horizon.
in depths, there are beginnings; under the shadows, in the dark smudges of thirst. contradictory roses, wordless blood, the paintings of the things crushed, the heart lost in a claustrophobic mist . in frozen tears and anarchic quests, awakening tornadoes and pitiful plays; there are rumours of lost minds in the places of death; place of birth, place of raw flesh.
not easy it is to hand over parts that you are blind to, like foreign reds and shivering smiles, a tongue of passion and eyes of morning nights. to give away bricks of home is only a thing of hearts supported by good insides, like the kind sky that tears itself apart to share its home with the world around, like the chaotic dark that resorts to calmness after the moon pecks its way through.
#adropofhumanity