"Don't think of me as some person who is wrapped in fantasies and dreams and lies of the world, because sometimes it seems like you portray me like that", she said looking at me without a smile.
I look at her sitting still infront of a painting that she has been trying to complete for weeks now. Her hair falling down in front of her face perfectly and the rest tied up in a French Twist, her sleeveless pink spaghetti top, her fingers stained with shades of red, blue and yellow, and the sunlight entering through the little opening of the window and falling perfectly in her face, lighting up the golden halo of her eyes. I didn’t portray her as someone who was wrapped in a dream; she is a drea...
I met a girl while I was traveling to home from Chennai after my PCP schedule last year. She was in the same compartment. She boarded train from some station, I don’t exactly remember. Thing which made me curious about her was the accent. We had conversation as she had berth in front of me. The conversation started with general introduction about us and ended with her incomplete career goal.
She dropped her studies midway because she had to help her family. Her story shattered me at some point. But she didn’t show me any regret about it. I asked her if she needed any help about her studies. She didn’t reply but I could see her needs. I gave her my contact details and asked her to call me whe...
Tuitions after school.
Countless reference books.
Friends. Everything failed.
A touch from him and she knew
What static electricity was.
One forced fed in a restaurant ,
the other watched with hungry eyes.
Both wished to be on other
side of the glass.
"Freedom of speech is a fundamental right....,"said the history teacher.
"Dad, what if -"
"Shut up," came the reply.
That you could
for people too.
Went for long drive.
Kissed under the clear sky.
Held your hand.
All of this happened over texts,
and inside our heads.
"Love at first sight ?"
Her friend asked.
"Love at every sight."
You are both
and bedtime tea.
You both rouse
my tired mind
my anxious heart.
The entire childhood,
We teach our girls to 'Sit properly'
Not once are the boys taught, 'See properly'
I need to write this because I cannot touch you-
I kiss you in sleep
I bury my face in your chest
Memorising your smell
The way your hair
Feels against my cheeks
I move against you slowly
You can almost feel my
I want you to wait before I give
Myself to you
Like I have waited all these
Your strong thick arms
Hold me steady
Gentle yet punishing
You allow anything I want
You kiss my many scars
You drink from me
And tell me I am beautiful
And you are kind
Even when you're rough
You're mindful of never
You remember I have been lost
And you let me find temporary
Shelter in your body
We enter home together
Why do I feel,
I lack adjectives
to tell the stories that matter...?
This literary suffocation
and the linguistic decay
at the hands of a memory, non-retentive,
wasn't always the same.
We were born as nouns,
and raised as pronouns,
Those adverbial orders
shaped us like meanings of foreign grounds.
Our active voices were made passive,
we proposed prepositions,
but were interjected by verbs of many.
We lost our lexical existence
and were crowned with connotations
It was then when this rose,
This poem in the name of prose.
Why do I feel,
I lack the voice...
to tell the stories that matter...?
Why do I feel,
I lack the wind,
to play the chords that matter?
He tried every trick to get her glance.
When he looked other way, magic happened
He was standing in line, ordering a latte to go
Eyes on his watch, too busy to spare anyone a glance.
She was sitting at the corner by the window,
Watching the raindrops fall, her coffee getting cold.
He was too wrapped up on his life,
She's living inside her little bubble.
They were at the same place at the same time,
Yet that moment their paths didn't cross.
It could've been the right time at the right place,
But fate keeps rolling the dice.
It seems destiny is playing to keep them apart,
Because how could two parallel worlds collide?
Don't let a writer fall in love with you if you're afraid of the attention.
Because they will notice everything - the way you wrinkle your forehead when completely clueless about something. How you absentmindedly scratch your knee when furiously scribbling notes. The soft sigh that escapes your lips when you lean back on your pillow, tired after a day's work. They will notice the slightest of purrs that emanates from you as you pull a blanket over your body, and the softest of smiles in which your left dimple flashes merrily.
Don't let a writer fall in love with you if you're apprehensive of taking care.
They will be emotional - dramatic too, sometimes to the extent of driving you...
"Our daughter is making imaginary friends, she need help", she told her husband.
He nodded, silently upsetting for his schizophrenic wife and their childless family.
She has so many things to say,
And wants the affection no one can pay.
Only she knows the way she feels,
How she felt like everytime her happiness steals,
She feels herself so weird,
Wanting some to be near.
But then again she wants to be alone,
Spending the time with her phone,
Listening to her dream tones.
She feels like talking with someone,
Sharing the feelings she had real one,
Then again she has so many things like drops of rain.
But doesn't have words to explain,
Like always she felt used,
Even in a best friendship she feels refused.
So all is she left with the pain,
With all refusal, alone and vain......
I know you are out there, somewhere. I know that you’re probably just as hopeless as I am right now, about to give up on love because it’s just been very painful lately but I know that you will show up in my life randomly and probably unexpectedly and I know that as soon as we see each other, we will just feel it.
I don’t know much about you but I know that you will not be too busy for me or too lazy to come see me because you will be just as excited as I am to spend time with me. I know you will ask me nicely to go somewhere romantic so you can get to know me and really listen to what I have to say and try to understand me with all my complexities and I know our first date wi...
8th months old girl get raped by her 28th years old cousin.
Yes you are reading it correctly.
It wasn't not first time you are reading this kind of news.
Just the age is decreasing.
Another case, another news, another rape and another story on Facebook.
Rape is not even freaks us now.
As country we are so weak to give people capital punishment on rape charges.
Just an another crime.
I can't resist myself for sharing my words on this case.
We all are equally culprits for her because untill unless she is not our own kid or niece or sister, who cares?
We are just sorry for her.
I am a girl.
20+, wear make up, sometimes short dresses too and talk to many men but trust me, I never asked for it. ...
Books & People
We are like books different stories, different twist, different breakdowns and different inspiration.
And there are three types of people we meet in our life.
One who open the index and jump direct on the part of your chapter that peak their interest.
And then come the one who take their time, run their finger one every line of your chapter and may be fold corners of you that inspired them the most.
You meet these people on and off...
Then third kind you'll never see coming who not only finishes your sentences but also keep the book.
I promise to holding your hand when you feel like you can't walk alone.
I promise to hide you in my arms when you can't take the world's shit anymore.
I promise to listen to your problems and I promise to find a solution to them, if you need me to.
I promise to be your shoulder to cry on.
I promise to keep your every secret safe in my heart.
I promise to never leave you alone, in your good times nor your bad times.
I promise to walk on fire with you if I have to.
I'll be your backbone. I'll be strong for you as a rock.
But promise me just one thing, when the difficult parts will be over, you will hide me in your arms ...
In the world full of
One time password
I want to be your
And from hand written letters to blue ticks,
We lost patience.
Can I tell you a secret? You don’t have to be in a relationship.
I mean it. I know they force it down your throat until you choke on it. Girls aren’t pretty unless they’re wanted. Boys aren’t men unless they’re having sex with someone. People aren’t lovable until they’re dating someone.
But a relationship won’t always make you happy, and as wonderful as romance is, it isn’t the only love that exists. I have seen friendships that are deeper and more pure than couples who swear it’s forever - and yet the friendship is the one people ignore.
I have heard so often “nobody loves me” out of the mouths of people who are single. And it kills me because if you ask them: where are your paren...
Let's talk each other to sleep.
Let's talk about shooting stars and all the unfulfilled wishes you had,
let's talk about the planets and all the tears you shed.
Let's talk about the sun and shadows of past,
let's talk about all the gloomy days that didn't last.
Let's talk about you.
Let's talk about me.
Let's talk about Us,
if that's a possibility at all.
I want to look in your eyes rather than closing mine,
I want to see your soul than seeing the dreams.
I want to touch those insecurities
rather than touching the blanket.
I want to talk
And unravel the mysteries of the past.
and unshackle the chain of our thoughts.
without judging each ...
"Happy birthday ." the voice said from the other side of phone at midnight
"Laughing giggling thanks ,disconnect the call and sleep now.",she said
"Who's the lucky guy?" the roommate asked
Her sister smiled at the other side of the call.
He guessed my favorite color
in his first try.
But, I didn't even have a favorite color
until he shouted 'Orange'.
And I want to be the
notes folder in your phone.
To know about all those feelings,
You typed at 2 am and then deleted.
Sometimes I wish I was my soul,
Allow me to call my soul a she because she is excessively affectionate and sensivite and was never ashamed to show it to me.
At times she convinces me to take naps and I am not sure if she is doing this because she is really sleepy or afraid to live in general, and I know she inhereted that fear from me.
She cries but I held it.
She can't always linger in her sleep and she'd complain about it but I close my eyes everytime pretending to be.
I once asked what is she made of or what is she anyway,
She said she is a bird in cage that I never considered setting free.
And she's right, I never, because I am af...