Dear Future Lover,

To describe the perfect kind of love,

Would be cumbersome,

But I for one,

Am a hopeless romantic.

 

The perfect kind of love,

Is discovering cute little cafes,

Down the street,

‘Round the corner,

Discovering old libraries,

The smell of old books in the air,

And stacked on the shelves,

Would be novels and memories.

 

The perfect kind of love,

Is holding hands,

As we walk along the shore,

The waves of the sea,

Teasing our toes.

Trying to avoid the rain,

But getting wet anyway,

Because where’s the fun,

In missing out ,

On the little adventures,

That come our way?

 

The perfect kind of love,

Is when,

That comfortable silence settles,

As the two of us,

With a book in hand,

Sit on the couch,

In an apartment we share,

Because sometimes,

All we need is a little space,

To forget about the world around us,

Letting our minds wander,

To a distant place– A land, far far away.

 

The perfect kind of love,

Is when,

There are days,

Where we just lay,

On the bed we share,

Day to day,

Our limbs entangled,

Our breaths in sync,

Basking in all our lethargic glory,

This, I crave.

 

The perfect kind of love,

Is rambling to each other,

Of our mutual passions,

You, taking the words,

Right out of my mouth,

And I, yours,

Because that,

Is how in-sync we’d be.

But rambling to each other,

Of our varied passions,

You learning to love,

What you never did, before.

And I learning of,

What I never knew before,

Because that,

Is how out-of-sync we’re allowed to be.

Because that,

Is what the perfect love is about;

There will be differences,

There will be similarities,

There will be distances,

But the perfect love,

Is when we cross those distances,

The spaces between us close.

 

Because, the perfect kind of love,

Is when at the end of it all,

You’re still there,

Sitting at the table we share,

Across from me,

And we’re giving each other,

That reassuring smile,

For we know,

Our love?

Not a war,

Not a hurricane,

Not a single disaster can tear,

Our beautiful, beautiful love apart.

Distortion.

In a gallery, laced with white walls.

White walls decorated with squares of different sizes.

The squares of different sizes, with works of art enclosed in them.

Works of art, showing distorted faces.

The crowd stared at it. Contended, they smiled smiles, showing how emotionally linked they were to the pieces.

The artist, who stood distant from the crowd, smirked a knowing smirk. Of course everyone of them related to distorted faces.

The crowd, as expected by the artist, seemed reminiscent of all their flaws, be it mental or physical. Somehow, they all seemed so unsatisfied with some part of themselves as they stared at these paintings, as if someone acknowledged and accepted these flaws.

‘Society’. “‘Society’ is to blame!”, their minds yelled in unison. And with that, they went back to simply admiring the work.

The artist smiled pitifully at the crowd. His conscience ranting, going off about how, “It’s so very sad that today, they relate so well and find solace in art with distorted beings painted across the canvas. When they who gaze upon such work so admiringly, look perfectly normal. No eyes replacing noses, no oddly shaped faces, limbs which look perfectly fine and functional. And all they do is look at themselves in these paintings, feeling insecure, thinking that this is how society sees them –flawed.

And yet what they haven’t noticed is that they are very much part of this society that they blame, as if it was some external force they were never part of. They never realise that eventually, it’s in their hands to change views, to turn heads, and to trigger, in people, the need to question. It’s all in our hands.”

The artist couldn’t agree more. Yet, like everyone else, he chose to stay silent about it.

————————————

Yes, hi-hello. This is me, not being silent.

Too Late.

I stared and stared,

His sun kissed, dusky skin aglow.

I searched and searched,

For a deafening silence and a space, darkness-clad.

I tried and tried,

to wear a smile, every time he shunned me.

I cried and cried,

Every night, thinking back, about us.

I moved and moved,

Along the lines of forgetting him.

I thought and thought,

Back to the days when I thought I loved him.

He tried and tried,

To convince me to love him back,

For he finally loved me.

But it was too late, as I moved on,

Only to wake up, every morning, next to the girl I loved most.


Train rides. That should explain it.

Pain

Anger. It coursed through her veins,

Flooding her body like poison.

Anger. A feeling so great, She felt like

The world was under her power.

Anger. He criticized her, made her feel

so powerless at the same time, for no reason.

Anger, a feeling so familiar,

It made her feel as fragile as a flower.

Anger. A feeling which long left her body.

And when she felt like everything was under control, it wasn’t.

She could never stay angry for long,

She hated herself for that.

She could never stay happy for long either

For the feeling of loneliness overpowered her.

But at the end of the day, she’d wipe away her stoic face.

She wore a mask, portraying glee instead.

And before she knew it, she’d be asleep.

Tossing and turning, as tears filled her eyes

And stained her pillow.

After all, pain was the overpowering one. Not loneliness.


Yup, a rant.

White Noise

White Noise. A sound so distinct.

It blares through the room. It embraces me

And I feel a comfortable warmth, spread through my body.

White Noise. A sound so distinct.

It erases the words, etched in my head,

“noisy”, “Annoying”, “Stupid”, “Dumb”,

And so many more I’ve forgotten.

Everything, just white noise.

White Noise. A sound so distinct.

It reminds me that the feeling of loneliness,

Lingering within me, is merely there until I hear the familiar noise

Take over my thoughts and it makes me forget that I am.

White Noise. A sound so distinct.

It reminds me, that I am nothing but static at that moment.


Inspired by my insecurities! I’m facing them and dealing with them. Hope to find happiness…~ (I’m not depressed or anything lol)

What Is Love?

What is love?

I’ve never been asked that question before.

I never really thought of it, until that night

The day of our fight.

And I was okay for I felt no pain.

I knew we loved each other with all our might.

What is love? It is one that cannot be described.

It is perhaps when his warmth enveloped mine,

When he apologized.

That warmth that left me feeling so safe,

For I hadn’t felt safe in so long.

That same warmth, reminded me, that I belonged somewhere,

And that I hadn’t lost my safe haven.

What is love?

I’m not sure,

But I know enough to say,

That it is a feeling.

A feeling that’s perhaps the best,

I’ve felt in a while.


What can I say? Train rides bring out the romantic in me.

A Familiar Scent.

She lay her head on his chest,

Their ragged breaths in sync.

She took a deep breath, inhaling his scent,

A familiar scent that calmed her nerves.

A smile so faint, graced her lips,

As she embraced the scent that enveloped her.

He smelled like cinnamon and cigarettes,

His chest was firm and moved up and down,

A sensation she found calming.

All that was heard was their labored breaths.

A lazy day was now well spent,

And at that moment she felt complete.

——————————————————–

What can I say? The rain just makes me more romantic

Being A Pluviophile; Obsessed With Insanity.

Her tears trickled down her cheek,

As delicate raindrops would.

She let out loud breaths yet she was quiet,

But she was screaming on the inside.

Her screams though quiet, would be as loud and trembling,

Like thunder, if unleashed.

Her face, glossy and wet, shimmered as bright as lightning.

She sobbed until her chest was rumbling

And she broke out into maniacal laughter.

She laughed, forgetting everything

As the rain poured heavily.

People walked past, quick glances they gave her, before labling her ‘a lunatic’.

But at that point she realised,

She didn’t care anymore and enjoyed the moment.

She enjoyed the one thing that made her smile—

The rain.

“I find peace in the rain”, whispered her conscience.

——————————————————————————

It’s rainy season, and I’m back to finding my happiness because the rain does make me smile after all.

Thoughts That Keep Me Up at Night

I want a man with a firm chest,

Against which I can rest my head.

I want a man who’d look beyond my flaws,

My flaws that every other man considered ugly.

I want a man who’d embrace me so tight, I won’t be able to breathe,

For it is then when I’d feel like a part of him.

I want a man around whom I wouldn’t have to pretend.

A man around whom I wouldn’t have to fret.

A man who’d enjoy my quietness for often I have not much to say.

I want a man who’d understand when,

I have no words to say but nonetheless,

He’d understand me on a whole,

For I am who I am,

An awfully quiet girl where all that is loud,

is the silence that surrounds her and the noise of her crowded city.

Yet, when I find all this in a man,

My insecurities eat me as a whole meal,

As if it were a boa constrictor.

And I cower away out of shame and timidness.

Afraid to lose him,

When he wasn’t mine to begin with.

—————————————————–

My new school got me feelin’ like…

Somebody.

Like the wind that blew,

You touched me and left.

But that’s okay. Change is inevitable

And persistence is a pain.

Consistency too, is not so great.

But I’m not complaining,

Nor am I disappointed, for all I wanted,

Was someone to confide in.

Someone who I know will always be there.

Someone, around whom I can be

Even when no words are exchanged.

Someone, with whom a comfortable silence settles.

Where all we need, is the knowledge.

The knowledge that we’d be there for each other.