“…and then you say, that my eyes dream of rainbows and fresh flowers, breathing amidst the wildness”

Picture : moodygrams (instagram)

Discouraged, I stand along the waves, rising and falling to pieces. We’re all supposed to break, aren’t we?
Waves splashing, water moving ashore, let it take me, I’ll breathe water until its purity turns me into dust.

Lost I’d float along the winds, seeing more of this world, its beauty and its evil, I’ll reach my heaven.

Yet again your presence makes me feel warm, and then you say, that my eyes dream of rainbows and fresh flowers, breathing amidst the wildness. Then why do my bones feel like dust slipping off my veins?

Was this the end I have ever deserved?  Dreams and aspirations fly like birds of freedom, then why do I talk of dust bones and jumbled pieces?
I am worth more, then let my wings be free and let my eyes be not blind anymore. Let me rise from my ashes and turn into the most legendary myth, a phoenix indeed.

And I’ll look to myself, yet again, for courage and kindness. Let my dreams be unclipped and let my broken winged birds of happiness​ fly, for they have been my greatest inspiration, always.  



Take me to a place where sunsets are not only a symbol of love, romance but is an emblem for peace and happiness, a token for a happy heart which holds passion like its scarlet hue.

Take me to a place where “forevers” last forever and “I love you’s” aren’t just fallen leaves of a tree which held true, valued and evergreen emotion.

Take me to a place where kisses taste like melted chocolate and brew. A place where kisses feel like moistened soil, smells like gardenia and jasmines.

Take me to a place where our names will be carved on rainbows and felicity will be painted on sky.

Take me to a place where smiles are not entities to compute delight in someone’s heart, but are land on which, wilted flowers bloom again, carrying aroma of laughter, sheen and purity.

Take me to a place where stars are mementoes for memories and every time a memory is forgotten, a star falls, maybe to find home in a better place where its presence will be valued, and where it will load lives with sparks.

Take me to a place where hands do help instead of crime, where fingers strum guitar, and write poetry, staring at themselves in drops of ink, and reading themselves in words.

Take me to a place where the chronicle of him and me isn’t only fiction, a faded fragrance of a once strong cologne, but is a drug of love which fills souls with lust and intimacy.


It was ME


Artwork: unknown

I was in a place, a dark and gloomy place where I used to see myself, hundreds of myself, some locked up in a room, bleeding to death, some crying themselves to sleep, some screaming.

It was a cold place, the one from which our parents warned us to stay away from. A place where devils hide, lurking behind their fake sweet smiles, ready to pull you into their world and make you a part of broken dreams and bleeding roses.

Maybe I was too weak to fight, I was too tired and so I gave in, gave in to the hunger of self-hatred and held their pale hands to travel along with them in this journey of pain.

I knew I couldn’t escape, not now, not tomorrow, not ever. I knew I had become a part of them. A piece of me still tried to find my once smiling self in this sea of my broken selves, but I knew that she was already gone.

Life always serves you the unexpected, doesn’t it?

I was limp from all the pain, my body laid lifeless on the ground.

Just when I thought everything was over, I saw someone I knew from my childhood, the same pearly smile, passionate eyes, standing in the doorway, holding the door open for me, letting the light in, letting me free.

It wasn’t him, it wasn’t her, it wasn’t them.

It was ME.



A cup of coffee in hands, his arm around my shoulder, sitting on the rooftop, staring at the starlit sky, watching the moon hide behind the clouds, an everlasting memory.

He breathes into my shoulder, his fingers running along my arm, like fingers strumming strings of a guitar, trying to find the right note.

No words said, no feelings, just us and the moon.

A feeling of contentment and satisfaction settles in my heart as I run my fingers through his hair, silk slipping through my fingers, I untangle mysteries.

How did I end up with him? Such a wild yet beautiful soul.

I feel a drop of peace slide down my skin, our lips curve into a smile as we sit there, watching rain fall like stars, falling on this canvas of our love, painting our hearts with galaxies and roses.

I wrap him with my words, messy, crumbled, summery words.

And then I finally lean in, hugging his warm body, clutching onto his shirt, asking him to never let go of me.

I, a drop of water in this ocean of people. He, my oyster in this vast sea, who turned me into a pearl.

They’ll probably never understand what I write.

I read their comments, telling me how well I’ve written, but they never understand and probably never will.

They won’t understand that these galaxies that I dream about are the ashes of my happiness garnished with glitter.

They won’t understand that this pixie that I talk about are the fragments of my broken wings.

They won’t understand that this desire that I feel is a longing for that one drop of peace.

They won’t understand that this lust that I write about is my addiction for his intoxicating love.

They won’t understand what I write.

Don’t take my words for beauty love, look closer, poison lies beneath.