Perhaps, i was supposed to cry writing this, i did.
Dear love, Words made our encounter to each other. And tragically, words are the reason, we are still together, if you know what i intend to mean. Our fingers when crossed, into the others' look more prettier than these lowercase letters. Your stardust still remains in me, for you don't bloom on my heart, but within it. You lay tranquil and idyllic in my heart. For, my forever was always meant to equal forever. You were the first and the last of course. No one can replace you, maybe now, not even you! I am grateful to life to have had you in here, i shall now cherish and adore time spent with you. Even now, sometimes i shed salty tears, once in which your lips were bruised.
Mayhap, we are verselets, printed on either side of one of the cadaverous pages of an ancient book. Although, always together, but never intended to meet. Always being each other's dorsum, but never really facing in person. If torn into pieces, we'd be still together, even in our downfalls. When seen through ebullient sunlight, we shall reflect our tale on each other. If kindled, high on flames, we'd ignite together, burning down into black residue, dark, darker, more intense, but not more than our intervening love.
Maybe the same applies to our lives, always together by the other's side, but afraid to meet, supporting each other, yet surface apart. You, redefined the term love for me, took me to your realm, showered me with love. Forever wasn't just a set of letters, but the carrier of our promises, which are again lies, maybe or maybe not.
A sweet reminder, when you come across that someone who keeps doing their best to stick around you, show affection, drench you with care, keep them never let them go, i say never. Does your love make you smile more than it makes you cry? :P . . . . . _reader24_
She says, "You've heard of the butterfly effect, right? That if a butterfly flaps its wings at just the right time, in just the right place. It can cause a hurricane thousands of miles away."
On those desert nights, when i needed the ocean of your love, Your memories came in unfathomed waves, Drowning me up to the head. I screamed, but you had your ears covered, Couldn't you hear the screams a few miles away? Or you ignored them wantonly.
Like star-spangled nights, Rain-full afternoons, Like everyday's sun, And sunday mornings, You too faded with time, "I don't love you anymore" Pardon, as i never knew Love came with an on/off button Were i this easy to be unloved?
The abyss between us Now felt like an ocean, I be an immature sailer Unaware of how to reach the shore.
You now owe me Sleepless nights, painful echoes I substitute you for sleep Trying to fill the emptiness Now the stars have tired To fall for me I wish i too could wear my scars Just like how the moon did Instead of talking under the celestial ground I talk to the stars in your absence When i tell them tales of you They glisten a bit more than they do. If i honestly say, I would never love anyone The way i love you Till when you would be back I would sleep in the loneliness And capture every star with your name Until you're back to do the same.
Make me fall for you again Show me that this heart is capable Of feeling more than just pain
If only it ceased with that unsaid 'goodbye' It is now hard to believe that you're back For i was tired of telling the stars your tales Tired of getting your essence through those old jackets.
Hey wonderful writers, your posts still await my reads. Pardon for the delay :)
Baffled and bewildered, i was. I couldn't resolve, what i liked more.
His eyes or the sable glisten in them. His smile or the way he does that. His voice or the words which cast a spell on me. His memory or his alluring sight. The nights he talked with me or the moon which envied him. The moment spent together or the fate destined for us. His soft hugs or the scent of his cold arms. His snaps or the way he pouts and poses in them. The memories that own my mind or the anticipation of what might occur. The nights which kept me awake or the way he conquered my dreams. The 'goodbyes' and 'love you's' or the way he smiles wide saying them. These words which are still unable to describe him or the tears which drifted when i inked this. . . . . .
Just some of our opinions -.- Collab with @_selcouth_ I dunno how many random readers will actually go through the lengths of this post, but we would be glad if you do so. Everything is imperfect, so is this.
Rape, vicious of all, is a crime that occurs every now and then here in India.
"Beta, khayal rakhna! Khana time par khana, aur ho sake toh phone karti rehna!" said Nirbhaya's father one last time before she left her house to get succumbed under those prodigious arms where she fought for freedom like never before just to be treated like a tissue paper of use and throw.
Subjecting the merciless brains of this generation, let's get back to the factors they judge us on. Judgements on the hands of the clock, the length of her skirt, the path she embarks, her body language and what not. Scandal on her audacity to fight and then gimmicks on her freedom was it all she came on earth to get?
It seems like India can never change. Bhul jao 2016, yeh wahi desh ha jaha Draupadi ka chirharn hua tha.
We went for candle marches, we went for resolutions, we took stand for one who went through this inevitable reality that she was fucked without her consent. She was touched to the areas she was the only owner to touch. She was being dragged down and was unable to stop them from infringing glass bottles and candles.
To my mentions, I had highlighted all the efforts made by youth then, but now? Conditions are turning even worse. Worse that they had made little girls, who haven't yet opened their eyes properly, see the most brutal dagger that painted her red with her no fault. None of us can console her, because none of us know how filthy it gets. If I were them I would have committed suicide. I would have died with a guilt that I lost my virginity to some demon, to a person I never knew.
If you have seen the movie "Pink" you might have learned something that characterizes a female into a slut, a whore, a sex worker and what not. You, the one who never seem to have a plunge to my personality, the one I really don't know, the one I might know, or the one who just has horny thoughts of me in his bed, can judge me on whatever grounds you want. Like whatever. And when I ask for rights, shhhh. You and your women stature is as low as the dirt in my feet. Not less not more.
Just because the sperm of your father's body made you a man, that doesn't mean that you got a chance to touch me with unauthorized means.
Imagine boys being pregnant, having periods and then running to washrooms to check if it leaked or something. Just imagine. And then mark this post offensive or whatever.
The matter is you don't want a change, all you want is entertainment. To how round her breast is to how large her vagina might be. I am sick of it all. To you, it seems like a freaking matter of entertainment, nothing more. Keep your lusty eyes off me, I am not your property. And no F's giving to you being my husband and raping me treating me like a material. Marital rape, bullshit man.
Not just females, they rape males too. Why the hell man, just why the hell?
Why do we have to take a stand every time just to get a grain-of-sand-size-attention that Oh hello. You can't look me like this, I know Martial arts, I can cut your balls, oh wait. Shut up. ...
While you prepare a toast for you in the morning, many pills are pulled down her throat, making her unconscious. While you take metro to your office, they shove themselves onto her tiny little physique. While you are walking down the lane, to reach your workplace, she is brutally tortured, raped in a temple, her head is smashed onto a stone, pools of blood flow down her scalp, she is being hid in a bed, again raped by several demons, again that physical-mental torment and alas, in the end, that 8 years old is strangled in her own clothes and killed mercilessly. Good souls never cross the Styx, but here we just witnessed so.
And, mind me, these are the cases being reported and solved out. Still behind those cages, wild souls are inhumanely raped, abused and finally pulled down to the vicious gateway of death. Crime never pays off, but our PROTECTIVE government, leave this shit !
While you prepare for your next day's routine, again a girl goes through all the creep, as nirbhaya or asifa. This incident is like scraping off the previously given wounds, which would never heal.
This little soul would never laugh, play around or gaze her horses. For she's now returned to a much safer haven, away from this hell, where many deadly vultures wait to feast upon her little corpse.
And, our oh-so-active media has now turned this heinous murder case into a communal-religious debate. Man, seriously? No one's there to pay heed to that dead girl, but new angles of hindu-muslim debates are being scraped off.
Well to remind you, we just CELEBRATED Women's day. Do you remember, ohh, why would you? Was it only for 8th March that slogans were narrated, better future was promised, respect was assigned to females?
WE BLAME THE SOCIETY, NO? BUT, WE ARE THE SOCIETY ITSELF. A society, which has innumerable parameters to judge the chastity of women, from the shape of her roti to the shape of her tits, from the length of the thighs visible to the depth of her cleavage, from her way of walking to hell, this list is never-ending.
Please, growing beard, developing muscles, working out in gyms, doesn't make you suitable to be called a man, manly are the deeds of a person. Imagine, if men were as disgusted and nauseated to rape as they are to periods? Imagine, if they had to go through all that vicious monthly cycle, intaking pills, working endlessly, without complaining?
And, after all this is done, some creatures will still be there to object, KYA PEHNA THA TUMNE ? Goddamnit, rapists don't rape because of outfits, but due to their screwed brains. Wait, was asifa wearing seductive off-shoulders or ripped shorts?
Mentioning to what steps are being taken for the betterment of India, you'll say, swachh Bharat yojna, but what dirt would you erase from the streets when the minds are themselves shitty and filthy. Sick brains wander around streets whistling and talking lewd, man, please go just once glare at your sister, she is no part different than those outta your house.
And, to what youth is doing, youth can bring about a change in what not? If they would unfurl these heedings, at the pace at which vulgar and offensive memes are circulated around the internet, then things might have been different.
And don't you think, the rise of women does not intend the fall of men! I might be sounding extra sentimental :/ but, I can feel the intensity of pain that went through her veins to dispatch a parcel of soul to Almighty fully stained with someone else's sins. I can still feel her screaming, yelling, slowly fading away with time. Even, imagining this sucks !
Gawd, this environment isn't even safe for eight year olds, leave it, the souls of children who are supposed to be playing with dolls, are played upon by several rapists. And, while I am ranting here, while you're reading this, shivers blow down someone's spine, someone gets totally pissed off of life, screaming to death. Amidst these long roads of political battles and media debates, their pain and sufferings are stacked beneath.
Aah, finally I am posting something after so long. Everything has imperfections, so does this.
Laying in the bed, the clock takes turns, it strikes two, and I am thinking of you. I don't really believe in forevers, but I do truly believe that, only once in your life, you come across someone who was never expected to meet you (I still remember how we started talking). And then your life, full of hectic itinerary, turns round. That someone penetrates through the layers of stillness and makes you look at the better things in life. They absorb what you say and actually want to let you speak more. And, when something joyful happens to you, you can't control your senses to avert from telling them, for they share more excitement than you. You aren't embarrassed to cry in front of them, for they would also weep, while you rant. Nor would they stop laughing when you make a fool of yourself. Neither do they envy you, nor do they hurt you. There is a strange calmness, a wondrous stillness, when they are around. You smile like fools, reading their texts, and this makes you relieved amidst the long day's work. There's no space of unstoppable conversation, you still smile wide in the words unsaid, the moments unlived.
You know what, life ain't persistent, it changes along with time, either for the better or for the worse. There are shifts in time, people do commit mistakes, ungratefully, so did I do. I screw up things every single day, and things turn worse. Time disappears, so do people. And, nothing seems more magical, than their comeback. Tears drift away, restless nights part their ways. And, I am glad you are here in spite of all that. Believe me, these are the moments of true joy.
Here is what I felt in void of your being. "I wish I were your jacket, so I could be close to your arms again. I know we aren't either supposed to talk. I ain't getting over those nights, when you used to laugh with me. I can't believe it, so I inwardly cry, missing you. My life, being a ray of light, you be a hue when it disperses. Don't part your way around this prism of life, else I won't be the same, backway."
We maybe miles apart, but I still crave to hug you for hours.
- your long-distance dumb.
If you are reading up to here, mind me, I will soon try to check all the tags :)
SOME PEOPLE ARE ARTISTS, WELL, HE HIMSELF WAS ART. EVERYTIME I GAZE AT HIM, ARROWS PIERCE MY HEART. NO CAMCORDER COULD CAPTURE HIS CHARM. NO WORDS COULD DESCRIBE THE HAVEN I FELT IN HIS ARMS. EVEN TRANQUILITY SEEMS CHAOS WHEN AROUND HIM. MY HEARTBEAT RUSHES TO BE CALM AGAIN BUT FAILS SEEING HIM. FOREVER APPEARS EPHERMAL WHEN HE WEAVES THE ANATOMY OF FINESSE WITH THOSE EYE CONTACTS.