April 30, 2010

Fingers Numb From Writing


The wet cobblestones lay silent in the mist, against the vivid glow of orange splayed across from side to side in imbrications of light. Mist billowed from across the seaside onto the narrow alleys—her nostrils filled with the ominous scent.

Her heart pounded wildly at the very thought of him—the waves crashing against the stone wall she sat upon, the wind brushing against her hair … the thought of his soft hands wiping the tears from her cheeks…

She clasped the manuscript in her trembling hands—each page tinged with a drop of tear. The cover title appeared but a blur of splattered ink on wrinkled paper, but she saw his name visibly embossed onto it.

She peered across, into the mist—there was no one there. She was alone. Alone with grief. Guilt.

In pain, tears tore across her face … down her chin—like his fingers used to…

An agonizing bemoan fought through her throat and burst into the streets, echoing into every nook and cranny. And right then and there, she knew she’d just made a big mistake. She wanted him perhaps just as much as he did—but it was all too late, she thought.

“No…,” she muttered to the wind.

She stood flimsily on her stilettos—wobbling, faltering against the torrent of frigid daggers that cut bare into her flesh—and she threw the manuscript into the roaring seas. She watched as the pieces of paper flew slowly into its melancholy depths.

She jumped off the wall and onto the cobbled streets—and then she ran—beneath the surreal glow of streetlights, through alleyways—wherever the winds took her … wherever she thought he’d find him.

Her heart pounded wildly against her chest. The wind dug deep into her skin—and a shot of pain, as she realized that snow had begun to pour into the current.

She held her arms tight—nails born into her coat and skin, but felt no such pain—and she trudged through the prevailing current of snow, frigid bodies of snow thrown at her—fiery blows to her heart—but she held on.

She’d disappeared into the mist, and the orange heat appeared merely but a pallid glow of thick clouds amidst the sheet of fog and snow—a blaze of fire, barely visible through the veil of cold, splayed across the cobbled streets. She followed that.

But it wasn’t soon before she’d succumbed to the numbness that had spread from her lips. And even the haze of white could not fight through the darkness that shrouded her eyes.

A blanket of snow lay beneath her body as she came to. Her knees were trembling—but that was only because she’d found his hands around her in a warm embrace.

She clung to him, but found only the empty feel of papers in her hands.

She stared listlessly across the sea, at the moon's pallid glow engulfed in a flurry of orange haze.

She'd been dreaming all along, she'd realized.

She looked down upon her manuscript and almost cringed at the sight. But in dire breathing from the cold air she said, "I'm not giving up just yet."


* * *

KuyerJudd (c) 2010
Photo Credit: here

April 29, 2010

Street Forty Six




Those innocent eyes
That sweet lips
He observed every movement of hers
Where she went
When she sat
What she ate
Most of all when she was alone
He had resisted his thirst for over twenty five years
All those years he felt like pouncing and biting her neck
Oh the blood would taste lovely and sweet
He was sure of that
But in all these years 
Not once had he the guts to do that
Today was the day
He closed his eyes
Gave himself away to his senses
And cornered her in street 46
He moved closer
He didnt know what the look on her face was
But if he saw her he wouldn't be able to do it
He slowly moved towards her neck
The fragrance of her blood
He bit into her neck
And she was forever gone
He now looked at her
He felt himself cry
She was gone,
And now he wanted her back...



Photography Graphics


Love

<3>

Love Happens?


Photography Graphics



She walked through he door
Looking for someone
I turned and looked at her
She was still searching for that someone
Then she looked
She smiled
I smiled back
Our eyes met
She slowly walked towards my table
"Hi, I'm Lara" she said 
I knew that time
That she, was the one for me
But she just thought of me as a friend
Over the years we became the best of friends
But never did it go further
Till today I still wait 
For us to become what we should have long before
For Love to Happen 

Love
Sonshu

Over the Mountains And Beneath the Oceans





Photography Graphics



I look through my window and see the horizon
Smiling I get ready for a journey of a lifetime
And then I take off 
As I pass by I Look at the shimmering water
Its so clear that I can see myself
Then I pass over the mountains
Oh dear you are no trouble to me
No matter how high I manage to pass by
Oh you make me shiver
Mountain dear!
Then I look at the vast oceans below
And dive deep into it
Fishes looking at me
Golden, Green and Yellow
Its the prettiest sight I have ever seen!
And then I come back up
Now I fly oh so high 
And reach the sky
Birds pass by and wave at me
Oh how delightful it is
I never want to go back 
To life now
Where everything seems nice,
But it is so not!
This journey of a lifetime will remain the best thing
That has ever happened to me!
After all whats better
Than Mountains and Oceans! :)


Love
Sonshu! :)
<3>


Also Posted on Where Rainbows Begin

April 28, 2010

Complainers..!


Okay, I complain a lot.
Not that I am an unhappy person, its just my built up frustration tends ease out by constant procrastination. I mean lets face it life's real hard. So yes, Swearing and complaining helps. This can probably bring in two kind of judgment from your side : One, She is an dissatisfied person or two, she is less of a fighter.
And just to be clear I am certain that I am none of these. But I was an angry teenager. I had a raging tempermant ready to snap its jaws on anyone threatening to prod the waters. People actually were terrified of me when I was in school, and for an extra added effect I was a fat kid. Anybody who dared to pounce on my nerves, actually faced physical injuries. Not that I beat them up ( Hello! I am a girl..!)Its just I chucked anything in my hand at the person out of sheer aggressiveness. Be it a metal pencil case, stone, basket ball or whatever the list goes on.But I changed and for the good. I guess as you grow up, you 're more matured and life bitchslaps you at every situation where you learn new lesson all the time and be a better person.
So long story cut short, I am much more calmer and composed now. My temper seems to be in check and I don't lose it all easy.Because somewhere I have come to realise that bringing out your emotions means being vulnerable to things and proves to be weakness in other people eyes. So that leaves me with fighting down my urge to vent that feeling out. So in a more healthy way I whine and complain. Somehow I tend to find it soothing and a much more healthier way to unwind all the knots inside of you. And a much cheaper way as well. Its like a verbal and mental massage!
For sure not many people like people complaining all the time. I don't as well ( thats probably a hypocritic statement, But atleast i am honest.)
But guys give us a break. At this life thats just so hard to sail by you can always bear the brunt of a complainers, and whiners.
So next time you see a person complaining ( Well let me be specific : comaplaining about sensible and rational things), Just nod in agreement and empathize. Its just one of those tapped anger making its way out in a more warming fashion. Unless you 're trying to prod the storm in a sea of poppies..!
Maybe you should try procrastinating for a while. You will soon see the effect yourself.
Love, peace and brotherhood..! ( And not to forget the complainers..)

April 27, 2010

Once Again...

Once again, I feel that emptiness
raging intensely,
filling up my soul.
It reminds me of the promises
never made to be fulfilled.

Once again, the man in the mirror 
looks sad.
A fading shadow of a happiness.
I turn off the light to let that face
dissolve in the darkness of the night.

Once again, pour a million drops
of the rain of reasons to cry.
The earth swells with tears
falling from my eyes,
perhaps to touch her.

Once again, December comes,
colder than before,
sending shivers down.
I did not love the cold,
but it was winter in my heart.

Once again, a star fell,
as I wished 'let me forget'.
So many stars have broken since.
My sky is almost void
but her thoughts return.

Once again, I hear that note,
of the perfect music.
I stopped and listened,
to my favorite song.
Someone had called out her name again.

- The Lover @ SoulIntoxicated

April 26, 2010

my Shake Shack girlfriend


I saw her standing in line at Shake Shack in Madison Square Park. My friend Loui wanted cheese-fries and I needed a bottle of water. The line wasn’t long and I could hear The 88’s “All ‘Cause of You” out of the headphones of the guy in front of me. She was standing two people ahead of me and they were both short enough for me to see her. It could be the way she looked fixedly beyond the people walking by her or the tight black t-shirt she had on with the words “Frak It” in front (see: Battlestar Galactica), but I couldn’t help but ignore what Loui was saying. And as I watched her inching her way towards the front of the line, I naturally started to pick her apart.

I knew she wasn’t stuck-up because she dressed like the kind of person who would give the subway mariachi a buck or a bottle of water. She wore a pair of torn and faded jeans that looked brand new besides the grass-stains on the thighs. Standing in line, I imagined her sitting in the grass, getting her new ragged pants dirty because she came to the park on a whim and didn’t bring a blanket, but the weather was better today than it had been in a week and she didn’t want to miss out on the extra sunshine. I pictured her pulling a book out of her unpretentious imitation designer bag and gracefully dropping down onto the ground, light as a feather and pretty as she is now. Sitting there in the grass reading Mishima’s The Sound of Waves, her shoulder length dirty-blonde hair must have been blowing back and forth across her silver frame aviators, forcing her to tie it back. I wondered how she looked with her hair down…
A few minutes later I was at the window asking for an overpriced bottle of water from the Yaqara Valley of Viti Levu and she was sitting down, reading her book and waiting for her Shake Shack pager to buzz. I took a sip and walked over to her.
“That’s one of my top five favorite books,” I said, honestly. She smiled through her aviators and replied, “I like it a lot. I haven’t finished it yet. I’ve read it four times and I always stop around halfway.”
“Why is that?”
“It’s a simple but beautiful story… and I don’t want it to end.”
And with those words all I could think was “frak my life”. I was in love. I knew nothing and everything about her. I wanted to ask her if I could sit with her. We would have talked about the book, about Mishima, then maybe Neruda or even Elvis Costello. I would have said something about her shirt and by the evening would have been sitting on my couch watching BSG on DVD, just her, me and the T.V.
I would have cooked breakfast for her in the morning and while she ate it in my bed, I would have read to her the beautiful and simple ending to the story that she waited all this time to finish. And the sex would be brilliant.
I would take her out to the movies and we’d laugh at the people on screen and their pretend problems with pretend boyfriends and girlfriends who happen to be blue vampires living on a distant planet where they battle werewolves for a valuable natural resource; the love of a shaky-lipped teenage girl.
We’d drive around Manhattan, trying to find a cure for our music ADD, and then stop at a bar when we wouldn’t find it. We’d have Irish Car Bombs and play Finger Football with bar napkins. Then, when we’re drunk enough, we’d challenge a couple Russian guys to a game of darts and lose. But we’d have fun losing…
It would go on like this for a while, amazing, beautiful… and simple. But one day we’ll be sitting in a Chinese restaurant cracking open our fortune cookies and realizing that we’d become one of those sad-looking couples sitting across from you in a restaurant; that we had become bored and even worse… boring. I would resent her free-spirit and aversion to the words love and boyfriend. She would be frustrated with my old-fashion, chivalric machismo. The sex would become uninspired.

I really wanted to sit down next to her but something was holding me back. She was a fantasy. Every girl is a fantasy until you date them, then they become real people. She was beautiful as a fantasy, and I didn’t want her to become a real person. I didn’t want to be wrong about her.
I took another sip and looked into her aviators, “I think you should finish the book this time around.”
“Yeah? I’m afraid I’ll be sad when the story’s over,” she said with slight sadness.
I smiled and as I turned to walk back to Loui, I said “Me too...”


photo:http://www.flickr.com/photos/shuichi/ / CC BY 2.0

Mr Elephant's Love Letter



Dear humans,

I have a secret
I fell in love
With you

But love doesn't work one way
I know that

When I saw you tear my home down
When I saw you poisoning my drinking water
When I saw you lock my family in tiny cages
And put them on exhibit in the zoos

I know you don't love me anymore

But I'll wait
For you to remember

The day I was born
When God put me into your hands
And you gave me my name

I want you to remember
The day when you looked at me and smiled

That was the time
When nature and man
Came together as one

And that was the time
When life was so much easier

When you and I
Understood each other

Lots of love,
Mr. Elephant.

Also posted on thewarrantycard

April 25, 2010

Cricket and all that jazz

I should start this post with a disclaimer. The last world cup I followed religiously was more than 10 years ago. The 99 World Cup. And this post is more about memories. 99 World cup was a refreshing break after the 10th board exams for most of us. Those were the days I used to know the names of Kenyan players too. For a person who took pride in the fact of being born in the year the country won the world cup, cricket was a natural obsession. But then the match fixing scandal broke. The idealistic teenager in me was frustrated with the scandals in the game especially heartbroken to know that the fiery team led by Azhar was not all that fiery really. And hence ended the cricket craze for me.

Subsequent World cups were a blur. And especially after players like Jhonty Rhodes quit, I didn’t have the incentive to watch even my favourite underdogs South Africa. With Sachin, it was love, hate, awe, disgust all the usual feelings that the average viewer has for him. And after that the only places I saw cricketers was in ad films. I knew the top brand ambassadors, but didn’t bother again for the one match/series wonders or the team fixtures. Gone were the school friends who would gush about how cool Shahid Afridi was. Even Shoaib Akhtar’s histrionics only held my attention very briefly. Gone was the craze for having a batsman’s average and a bowler’s previous best on my fingertips, today I have almost become the typical girl who doesn’t like cricket much. Not even aapdo Amdavadno chokro Parthiv Patel got me interested.

The only T20 memory I have is of Dhoni’s team passing by my Mumbai home and watching all the frenzy standing at the gate. The team under Dhoni seemed to be getting the same fiery edge that it had long ago. Suddenly my interest was revived, but never did it reach the extent of sitting down to watch even a fast paced T20 match.
But for the first time this year, I thought I would catch up on the IPL action. Felt like watching atleast all the Mumbai Indians matches, 3 years in the city makes you a devotee. The mongoose and its shenanigans seemed interesting. Plus the large screen set up at Press club, friends and the newly acquired habit of gulping cocktails proved to be some incentives. And just one tweet ended it all. This time there was no disappointment, just a quiet acceptance, a ‘this is the way it is’ attitude. But this scandal turned out to be much bigger, murkier. Match fixing seems almost tame now. Anyone who was anybody and their sons and daughters were part of this scandal. Older and hopefully wiser, there wasn’t much idealism left in me and hence not disappointed at all. Just waiting to see whether it would be Mahesh Bhatt, Madhur Bhandarkar or Ram Gopal Varma who would make the biopic on Lalit Modi. More importantly, who will play Sunanda?

Naked soul.



I have been dreading my mind lately,
I dread all my fears come to loose,
in my nightmares so dark.

Why does even a picture with you and her
make me dream of you both,
Flesh on flesh,
baring your naked soul?

You sweat out of Ecstacy,
and I sweat out of drudgery of you two.
Oh please dont stop,
My subconscious waking mind gets more creative,
with each minute passing by,
and I don't wanna die,
Please don't wake me, sugar pie..!

April 24, 2010

The Best Friend

Once there was a very rich businessman. He visited the temple and prayed there everyday. He carried on with this schedule for 20 years after which he died.

By chance his servant also passed away the same day. Both reached the doors of God's place at the same time. The rich man saw God coming to the gate bare-footed. He was happy and thought,"I was a true follower of God. So he will welcome me personally." But to his surprise, God welcomed the servant and did not even look at the rich man. Then God ordered his soldiers to take them both to heaven.

A little upset, the rich man went up to God and said,"I used to go to temple daily and worship you. I have not committed any sin. Do you agree with me?"

"Yes, I do," God replied. "That's why I am sending you to heaven."

The rich man continued,"But I never saw my servant praying. So why the grand welcome for him?"

God replied,"I agree that you prayed for long hours. But you always took me as a 'giver' and 'defender'. You looked upon me as a supreme power that lives in temple. I fulfilled all your expectations and always stood besides you. Your servant never went to any temple and never prayed. But he thought that I was always with him and used to share everything with me. Like, whenever any guest came to your house, he would say,'Oh God, now I'll have to make another cup of tea.' In this way, he became my best friend. A best friend is the one who shares each and every thought and feeling with you. That's why I gave him Sudama welcome."

Thus we need to take a lesson for this story. The businessman gave God the respect and prayed to Him daily. But the servant endeared himself to God with his whole-hearted acceptance of God's presence every moment in his life. God values true relationships and such friends are always welcome into his abode.


P.S. - This story was published in a newspaper 3-4 years back. The cutting is still available with me. Just thought to share it with all of you.


Deepak

April 22, 2010

butterflies, dinosaurs, and babies


You leave me
dreaming half-awake after you’ve said goodnight
lost in a day-dream
hearing you speak
of pretty things and what you think is beautiful
in this world we’re all just pretty flowers
stuck in the ground just pretty on the outside
but truly hopeless and thoughtless and unable to move.

But you float above
like a butterfly gliding in the same wind
that I can’t overcome
And I would fight with monsters and men
if the cause was worth dying for

but I don’t have the strength to fly like you.

Flying free of cares
you draw your beauty across the skies
painting them a different shade of blue
the same blue it must have been long ago
when dinosaurs reached that high
with their long necks and used clouds
as pillows to take midday naps.

If only life now were that simple
and we still took naps in the afternoon
like we did when we were kids
Adventurers new to life and its details
all the small shiny objects
that shine less and less the more we learn
the older and colder we grow
with the child inside of us crying
fading farther and farther
until we forget.

But you never forgot
and you help me remember
how it was when everything was a blur

blissful and beautiful

and I want to be there again
floating in the air above green meadows
gliding in the wind, trying to reach the sky.
And I want to fight for that
so there will be no more
babies crying, unsure of time
hopeless and afraid
that one day they’ll be unable to move in the wind

and like grass they’ll be left swaying in the breeze
dreaming of the beautiful things they might never see.

The beautiful things that I see now
as I’m dreaming of you.

Photo:http://www.flickr.com/photos/marilynjane/ / CC BY 2.0

April 20, 2010

Newspapers - has the mighty fallen?



With the world wide web in our fingertips today, the once mighty daily newspaper powerhouses faces stiff competition. In this 21st century, where the world waits for no one, people do not have the luxury of sitting on the porch and read newspapers from front to back. Gone are the days when we used to read or rather watched our dad read the newspaper on the front lawn with up cup of tea in his hand! Those days can only be revisited in those classic hollywood movies where theses scenes have been stereotyped for all eternity. In this electronic age, a beep on the mobile or a few seconds on the internet delivers us all the news we need from anywhere in the world. Oh i know! I brought the BlackBerry for exactly the same reason. Little did i know it would cost me daily gprs charge!

Anyways, in most rural and urban areas, newspapers still dominate as the bringer of world news. With newspapers being printed in thousands of languages, people living in even the most remote places today are connected to the world. Is Honolulu remote?? Indeed newspapers have brought the world much closer. 

Though in this digital age, cable television and internet provide with the swiftest news possible, majority of the people still depend on the morning newspaper to start their day. I remember my childhood days when dad used to force me to read the editor's section atleast when i was only interested in the sports page and the comics section! Though newspapers today may not enjoy the success they achieved about a decade ago, powerful and distinguished distribution publications like 'The SUN' and 'The New York Times' are still going strong and probably will for another two-three decades.

Newspapers will survive. A gut feeling mostly! The next generation will still read them as i did. One thing i can vouch for is that i will be one of them....stil reading...still being motivated and inspired.

The Grass Is Always Greener On The Other Side...Or Is It?

It does not matter how beautiful the fence is, or how wide the space it encloses in is, the colors outside of the fence are always brighter. The paths and the places the paths lead to, enshrouded in the cloak of optimistic expectations and imagination beckon us to walk on, past the carefully posted pickets and come closer. I suppose it could be because ignorance leaves a lot of room for imagination. Perfection may be impossible to achieve but it is easy to dream about. All that is prohibited acquires a silver fantastical sheath merely because it is forbidden, because it's put up on a shelf and cannot be had. It is safe to imagine the extent of its beauty, the magnitude of its splendor. It's so much fun to play around with the delicious thoughts of breaking the rules, the thrill of crossing barriers and jumping fences.

I have such a short attention span and even if I am surrounded by shiny objects, my eyes eventually fall on those that aren't mine, can't be mine. Then there is the element of curiosity. The satanic question 'why' zooms around in the mind in all kinds of prodding pricking phrases, accompanied by 'what's and 'how come's. If it is lying there in my way I might step over it, but if it is wrapped in brown paper and shoved under the bed, my neurons will ignite with unbearable curiosity which would be very, very hard to subdue.

The grass may be greener on the other side, or it might not be. The important thing is it looks like it's greener and if you've walked for too long on your own patch of grass, it appears to be rather old and yellow - merely because you've been pacing across it for quite a while. It can be because you are an egotist and you just cannot stand the thought of there being something, or someone you're not permitted to have. When it's all about you and it's not so much about the enticing attributes of the forbidden object but the maddening thought that it is you who cannot have it.

Man's existence is so much more exciting because of his instinct to reject that which is offered to him and want that which is kept away.

- The Lover @ SoulIntoxicated

April 19, 2010

The Beach

I feel like going for a walk at the beach
Waddling in the water
Getting wet

And have the wind blow sand into my eyes

I want to listen to the waves sing
Watch them dance

I will build a dozen little sandcastles
A little empire I call mine

And when the sun goes down
And everyone goes home
I'll still stay back

Sitting on a rock
I'll tell the stars
How much I miss you

Also posted on .thewarrantycard.

Dead Angel turning to Rising Angel






Hi people,

You must be aware of my suffering in last few months, 

A girl who gives u name of  an Angel,although it was not reality but she was insisting a lot that it is a big reality,she feels that U came from God to console her,to make her smile , to make her laugh,to give her strength for her life the tense which she was suffering, u did as per her expectation, u spent beautiful moments together.Though The distance of their physical living was a far around 1200 km, but they were living in heart-even within the heart bit. it goes almost one year,Angel crossed the distance of 1200 kms 5 times for her,

But last time it was came again as a big failure when she said that u love me and I also love u but I cant do any commitment, can u imagine these are the words of that girl who used to call me an angel,

Finally Angel becomes Dead Angel bcz this compliment is of no use. he suffered a lot,his job, business,family,finance,his colleague,his social activism everything.

But How much shud I suffered? for whole life ? seeing that she is happy with someone else? or seeing that she got left again by a guy bcz of whom she left You,? offcourse Not. 

No Matter she returns,repents but can u believe on her when she betrayed U not once even 4 time  in a year,but u forgave her thinking she wud improved now,she wud be honest now but no she has something else in her heart always, I made mistake to understand her heart.Now again she came saying she loves but she cant do any commitment and "ohh Angel be with me I dont wannn loose u",

Friends what U think is she honest again?  No if she cant do commitment so no matter of going back with her,

So I decided to not to indulge in Love again not with her not with some1 else,I am concentrating on my life now,my business,my family,my freinds,my social activism and my Goal of life which I had lost in last 4 month,

I got up now, I realised now, That how wrong I was? Now I am still angel(def. with her) I still posses those qualities on the basis of which u gave me this name, But not Angel,not even dead angel to whom u buried in last 4 month but I am angel who is rising again, coming again into life, I changed my profile picture which was an angel with blooded wings it is changed now, I changed my profile name from Dead angel to Rising angel, my last poem is the indication of  a new shift in my life.



Pray for me that I could live happily again-although its a tough decision of my life, But I should  wake up, its a right time. as I am just 24.

Thnx for some people who knows this reality, they helped me lot to understand my self,they helped me a lot to realised the concept of rising angel. 

From now u will see change in my blog and in my writing

MR.saras as u suggested u want this talent shud be use for contstructive and to be use for positivity - Yes I m trying now as my best. bye tc. love u all.

April 18, 2010

I Will Take You Back With Me...


You left me in the rain,
I still can't believe it
You pulled your hands,
Away from mine
You walked away,
And didn't look back

What happened to all those promises?
And all those dreams we shared,
Every minute of a memory we had
You held me close to you
And said you'll never let go,
Oh what happened to all of that?

I want you,
Back into my life
I want to see you around,
Through my eyes
Please don't tell me goodbye,
Don't say its over

I wish, 
That we could go back to those times
We smiled and laughed
You didn't make me cry
You hugged me and never let go
And then you'd say
"I love you so so much!"

So don't you tell me
That its all over
I'm coming back
To take you with me
I need you, I want you
I will take you back,
With me....

<3>

Smile!!


Smile because it'll make someones day
Smile because it won't hurt,
Smile, maybe there's no tomorrow
Smile it won't break a heart!
Smile it will hide the tears
Smile, You'll be happy always!
Smile...Smile!

I'm back! Boards over, Time to get back to my lounge! Missed you all!! :) :) Love you! :)

<3>
Sonshu! :)

The Limit- 55 fiction

Me- "A limit..??? Why..??"

He- "That I don't know..."

Me- "We talk Freedom of speech, freedom of Expression.. Fair advertisement... What's this..?? It is not done."

"Ma'am..You can buy if you wish...." the shopkeeper said handing over the SMS Bonus card to me, which said UNLIMITED FREE SMS*

*Limited to 5oo SMS per day.

P.S. Just thought of writing about these weird schemes of telecom companies wherein they advertise something and the actual offer is something. Not that 500 sms is less per day..But why cant they advertise it that way..??

Whats your view..??

Also Posted @ Urvashi's Corner

April 16, 2010

I wann fly again yah yah yah I wann fly again



I wann cry again no no let me try again
I wann cry again no no let me try again

Days n months are flying ,they only keep me ruining

But I wann fly again yah yah I wann fly again
O ya I wann fly again yah yah I wann fly again

No matter what happened in past, no matter what i encountered last

But I wann try again yah yah I wann try again
 O ya I wann try again yah yah I wann try again.

I want to be famous for what I was ,people used to adore my smile , my class ,

Hey I wann shy again yah yah I wann shy again
O ya I wann shy again yah yah I wann shy again



You are already dead in my past ,  am moving ahead and fast
  
I wann say You bye again yah yah I wann say you bye again
 O yah I wann say u bye again yah yah I wann say you bye again,

The Other Woman

I lay there in the bathtub staring in oblivion. The pain in my chest was too much tonight. I wanted it all to go away. I wished I could just tell him I knew and get it all over with. But I held back the urge for the millionth time. I wished I could scrub the skin off my body. I didn’t feel like myself in it anymore. I felt dirty and impure hiding all the filth inside me. And then the bathroom door opened and he peeped in.

“Honey, are you done yet?”

I didn’t know what to say. I looked at him and just smiled. That is all I had strength enough to do. Was I done yet? I guess I was done a long time ago, the day I had first found out. He came home late like he had done many times before. But this time it was different. I could sense it in the way he was acting and talking. I asked him as usual what made him so late and unlike before, his answers had a tone of uneasiness. I knew then that he was lying but my love was too blind to see it. It has been almost three years now and it still is. I know he is still seeing her, sleeping with her.

I came out of the bathroom wearing a robe. He was waiting for me on the bed. We were going to make love. Maybe he enjoyed having sex with her but we; we made love, and making love was not an easy thing to do especially when one of us was faking it. Knowing that what we did was exactly what he did with her made it that much harder on me. I felt intimidated. I still wasn’t able to understand what made him seek intimacy in someone else. Was it because of me or was it just him? Was I too flawed? Was I not exciting enough? Did I not satisfy him completely? These were questions I wanted to scream out to him every time we made love. Rather, I just moaned out his name. He thought it was in pleasure but he had no idea how much pain was hidden in it. He was in me but I never really felt it.

“Oh! I love you…” he groaned.

I wanted to say, “I know you do but not enough. You love me but you love her body.”

“I love you too…”

I’ll never let him know that I know. It’s a secret I’ll take with me to the grave. And maybe in the afterlife, when everything is revealed, he’ll know that all this while I knew and then the way he’ll feel will be my revenge. Till then, I’ll keep on loving, and moaning and pretending. I just wish I had the kind of power over him that she had that made him risk everything just to be in her. I wanted to mean that much to him. For once, even for just a moment, I wanted to be the other woman.

The Lover @ SoulIntoxicated

April 13, 2010

Your Smell


I love the way I smell of you when I'm on my way back. The metro is almost empty at this time of night and the few people there seem to be lost in their own thoughts; slowly moving, almost dancing with the train as it moves on the rail. The air outside is warm; it's cool in here. I'm smelling my hands, my shoulders. I smell of you.

A smile on my face seems to bother a girl sitting in front of me. 'No lady, I'm not hitting on you. I'm just lost in my thoughts. I'm missing someone I saw just fourteen minutes ago. Why don't you let me smile and miss her? Why don't you find something or someone to think about as well and get lost in your thoughts like everyone else?'

I walked the rest of the way home and took a shower. Then I closed my eyes and I could still smell you in my head and I smiled. I wanted to meet you again. But then you call me up and say things I don't want to hear. When will you understand that I cannot give you those things? I'm not like that. Suddenly your smell becomes too much to bear and I can't breathe. I'm choking, I'll die.

Then I leave you, I put the phone down and I walk away. You blame me and I blame you back. We try to get back again and I try to get used to your smell again. I can't. And soon, I find a new smell and I start loving that smell like I loved yours once.

I'm sitting alone waiting for my train, smiling.

I'm walking home alone, smiling.

It's been so many years since you, your smell. There have been so many smells now and today, I can't smell anymore. Maybe I shouldn't have let your smell go. Today I don't even remember how you smelled like.

- The Lover @ SoulIntoxicated

April 10, 2010

Coloured Choices


Choice of colours matters ,
till you are blessed with the vision to see the differences !!