Protected: The “Am” Blues 

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Night Feels Like My Funeral

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(WPC: Frame )

Night feels like my funeral. The memories gather for my eulogy and I stare at the 6 ft deep grave into the darkness.

The night feels like my funeral. The somber atmosphere, the stillness in air, the moon hides behind clouds trying to disguise the sorrow it feels for me today.

The sky does not shine with stars, they quietly fade into the background. The sky sprawls above me, solemn. So does the earth beneath my feet, grievous. They both are quiet.

The wind too it seems, knows about my slow demise. It has ceased, to give me a moment of silence. The time seems to standstill. The only thing I can hear is the sound of my heart breaking. Tearing apart fiber by fiber. Crippling under the weight of my heavy chest. I feel it slowly disintegrate.

Disarmed. Slowly fading.

The night feels like my funeral. I hope to someday rest in peace.

Unlike these nights that only feel like my mourning.

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(Side Note: I’m starting a series of password protected posts soon. If you wish to read please leave your email address down below in the comment or contact me at mine. I’ll send you the password which will remain the same for all the coming posts of the series. Thank you. )

It’s You.

She tasted of gunpowder and roses, just as beautiful and just as dangerous. She was smokes and mirrors. A reflection within a reflection, a forbidden act. She was ferociousness and tenderness in the same breath.

In the moment as we sat on that bench, my body ached for her. She was too much and too little at the same time. Much more than what she thought and much less than what I was making her out to be. She was untamed, unchained and unhinged.

Her pain was fueling the fire in her belly. I knew I could get burned. I knew I had to tread with caution but damn she was worth the burns.
And so I jumped.
To fall into her.

(In response to Weekly Discover Challenge: Designed for You )

Let Me Show You 

(WPC:Rare )

A Rare Plant


Give me your broken heart that barely beats, the scars on it sometimes still bleed, some wounds still fresh and open.

Give it to me, I’ll love it into healing until the scars turn into stars, until your beat starts to pick up pace. If nobody has done it yet, let me show you what’s it like to love you. 

Let me show you how you can love a sun, and feel it’s warmth without getting burned. How you can love a fading star and feel it’s light brighten up the world.

How you can love the ocean and feel the beauty in its raging waves. How you can love the shore even though it sends the ocean away.

And how you can love the moon and be its companion, although the howling wolf loves it just as much too.

Let me show you what’s it like to love you. 

Do Not Fall In Love With Me

1) I warn you not to fall in love with me. You can’t. You shouldn’t. Just don’t. I’m crumpled sheets, the ones you keep trying to smoothen the wrinkles off of but never manage to get them sleek. The ones that are always creased. The ones that keep slipping off the edge, the ones that never seem to perfectly fit. 

2) Just don’t. Don’t fall in love with me. I’m that air which belongs to neither summer nor winter. I’m somewhere in between. The one that keeps fluctuating. That on some days is as warm and homely as a fireplace while on some is so cold it sends chills down your spine. The one that makes you wonder if ice is just as destructive as fire.

3) I urge you, Just don’t. Don’t fall In love with me. I’m like the moon that is nothing short of beautiful from afar. The one that you can’t help but admire from the shore. The one that fascinates you and even keeps you up at night at times. Until you see how ferociously it pulls the tide. How relentlessly and viciously it drives the ocean crazy. How it seems so thirsty to devour, hungry for madness. Then you run. Then like a scared little kid you stand on the shore as a spectator to its violent frenzy. As it rises and falls, as it crashes and quivers. As it breaks itself on collision with the rocks, shatters itself unaware of how it cuts the rocks sharp. 

4) Just don’t. Don’t fall in love with me. I maybe tender to touch but my heart is nothing short of an amalgam of few too many calloused scars. I humbly request you not to fall in love with me because then I’ll fall in love with you too. And then there are only so many eclipses you can take before you decide I’m too much to bear. Because there is only so much darkness you can stand and the tiring downcast shadow of its existence you can handle before you decide to leave . 

5) You will soon bid me adieu saying you can’t love me anymore and that I’m not who I seemed to be. So please. Just don’t, don’t fall in love with me. 

(List of reasons to why you shouldn’t love me. Written in response to The weekly discover challenge: The poetry of list-making )

The Poetry of List-Making

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Lessons Learned

This This This! Deserves a repost because “apparently” the lesson wasn’t learned. I need to re-learn and this time for good. The hardest lessons are learned in the most hurtful ways.

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I learned how easy it is to fall for well crafted words, too easily those words can hook around your heart and dive deep. How easy it is to tumble dry the same old words and use them over and over which our naive hearts end up believing.

I learned there is a reason why sometimes it’s so easy to believe people when they say things. We don’t give words enough credit they deserve. We don’t give words enough importance, we throw them around like shooting bullets hoping some of them would stick somewhere, preferably right in the chest.

I learned how easy it is to toy around with words and let them in turn toy around with our hearts. How effortlessly some people weave around words that hold this immense power to obliterate hearts. What they don’t understand is that hearts aren’t as strong as they seem, they can shatter and break so damn easily.

I learned a lot of things, but the most important lesson learned is to not believe people when they say things. That is the only way to keep yourself from bleeding. The same old measured words are stronger than they seem. And when people like me believe them? It takes us a lifetime to heal.

You can find the lyrics for this song here

(P.s I’m traveling and I’ll be on the road for a week. So I’ll keep trying to catch up but maybe a little late) 

I Am Flying

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Weekly Photo Challenge: A Fun Day At My Friend’s Birthday Party

Today I’m flying.
Today I’m rising.

But not exactly in a way one might think. I mean I am high but not rising like rising from the ashes. My ashes aren’t rising, but they are soaring in the sky today and I’m flying. I’m suspended in space but spiraling out of control at the same time.

I am ascending myself. There is something in the air. I mean what’s happening?
Fuck. I. Am. Flying.

I ebb and flow between waves. I crash and stay. Fuck. I. Am. Falling.
Oh wait, I’m falling ! Am I falling?
Ah no, that was just a surge before sky rocketing!

I’m sitting on clouds sipping on some moonshine. Chilling!

Something’s wrong. Wait what’s wrong. Nothing’s wrong. Everything’s so right it feels wrong. My heart? Fuck. Oh now I know why I’m flying!

Today I’ll just zip and whiz and whisk.
Shoot and sail and dive.
I flip and hop and hover.

Fuck. I. Am. Flying.

(This is by far the most fun thing I’ve ever written. Even I don’t understand what it means. What do you guys think?😀

P.S I promise I wasn’t high while writing this…At least not that way😉😀 )

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Her.

She sits in front of me, a walking contradiction. A cigarette between her lips and a pack in her lap, a lighter in another hand flipping it on and off. She knew that drove me crazy and that I wanted her to stop but she got off on driving me crazy so I let her. This time I let her. I could tell the storm in her head was a little too much for her to bear today. I could see the blizzard in her eyes and tornado right on the tip of her tongue. She was a fiery combustion on most days but a cyclone of hurricane and angst on days like these. And the most damage she did was to herself.

“You shouldn’t smoke this much. I don’t have to tell you how unhealthy it is.” I tell her.

“F**k off. I don’t like you very much.” She says taking a long hard puff of her cigarette, that I’m pretty sure went as far down in her lungs as it possibly could. Poison seeping into its walls. She looked me in the eyes as if challenging me to stop her from this self inflicting harm. I don’t know what would hurt her more; me stopping her or letting her continue to do what she was doing. But one thing I knew for sure, I wanted her against the wall.

“It’s okay you don’t have to.”, I say. She wasn’t ocean’s water, she was the stormy raining sky. She was a downpour of defiance and sass.

“You think you know everything, but you don’t. And stop leaving your body to corrode. You need to stop letting them steal you from you so easily. You give yourself on a fucking plate. You are the kind they devour. The kind they relish while tearing apart piece by piece. The kind they ravage and enjoy. Stop please stop.”

The ash from the burning cigarette was falling off the edge at the end of her fingertips. And i felt like so was she; falling off the edge. Or was it me? I was the one falling for her. There was no saving me from the fall but I wanted to save her. She had enough damage done to her, another fall and I could feel that would break her. Shatter, more precisely. Her head and heart were already pretty disintegrated.

“Don’t tell me what to do and what not to do. Who the fuck do you think you are?” She roars. So headstrong and untamed. “Just let me be. This body is mine, let me do whatever I want with it.”

“What about the soul that houses in it?”

“What about it? Do you want it? Take it. All those that came before you wanted the same. Everybody wants a piece of it. Take it, whatever’s left of it. I don’t need it anymore. I don’t fucking care.” She threw away the cigarette she was smoking and reached for another
from her pack.

“Don’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because.”

She contemplated for a second, flipping the lighter on and off between her fingers. She looked at me. She was unraveling me with her eyes and I felt it. I was a frightened boy trapped in a man’s body and she saw it. She kept staring at me quietly, and I felt weak. She was looking at me like she was deciphering me, like a code that cracked the moment she laid eyes on me. A part of me was afraid of what she’d find. Or if what she would find be worthy of her. Her gaze was scrutinizing. Maybe I should have just let her smoke, I mulled over my decision. She stopped playing with her lighter and eased back into her chair, her legs sprawled casually in front of her.

“Okay.”, she finally said. And her rain met with my athirst river.

(In response to Discover challenge: Portraits and Daily prompt:Maybe)