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.

It Isn’t Love

I stand in the middle.

They’re too tall, or I’m too small.

They cover the skies, towering.

Yet, the rays seep through their faults,

And kiss my skin.

A warm and tender kiss they lay.

I have never felt the need to touch you more.

You’re right beside me, but with the blink of an eye, you’re gone.

I miss your gentle caress,

Your encouraging pats.

Love is a strong word.

I didn’t love you,

I loved everything about you.

And not everyone understands the difference,

For they’re too tall. Or maybe I’m too small.

A New Kind of Feeling.

Tall and slender. Eyes through which,

One could see rage.

A sadist— He was called

An angel— He looked like.

A devil had never been more beautiful.

It was certain, that the ride was to be

A bumpy one.

Though quiet, adventures excited her

And not everyone knew so.

Holding their gazes,

She walked to what could be,

Either terrible or terribly beautiful.

“It was bittersweet”, she’d say after.

The end was the most bitter part, above all.

————————————————-

Random one. No, no failed relationship for I’ve never been in one. ( haha )

The Girl With Two Extremes

She turned, agitated. Fear dripped,

In the form of sweat.

Her heart, palpitated so hard, so fast, every fiber of her being exploded with every beat.

People. People everywhere.

Scared? She didn’t look it.

A veil was worn, a facade, she bore. And not a single word escaped her pretty lips.

She was too quiet or too loud. There was never an in-between.

And there started her issue.

Afraid of keeping quite, for before, accusations were thrown.

Tired, she wore her frown upside down,

Took out her sword and went to war.

A war with herself, For one’s biggest enemy is one’s self.

Eventually she won, and spoke aloud without a care in the world.

She didn’t care what people thought in particular

For she either settled for everything or nothing at all.

———————————–

Wrote this during art at school because I’m so tired lately. Tired of pretending to be an extrovert when I’m not. And tired especially from socializing. Basically this ‘poem’ is a rant.

Hit By A Brick of Inspiration

Spoken word poetry– something I was exposed to in the recent past. Although I should be finishing the essays that I have been piling forever now, I was hit, no, punched, by a wave of inspiration. And so I tried my hand at this oddly interesting form of poetry.

Inspired by a quote by Paulo Coelho:

“She didn’t quite know, what the relationship was between mad people and the moon, but it must be a strong one if they used the word ‘lunatic’ to describe the mad.”

About Luna

It was when I sat beside the window,

staring at your round face.

Your round face that illuminated my side of the world.

Like a white blanket, you covered darkness

As it slipped into bed.

It was then when I realised how,

you shined so bright, you out-shined the stars.

Your rays, running off into oblivion.

It was then, when I forgot my every worry,

For you took care of me from above and made sure I slept.

I noticed your presence in every bed time story told.

You stayed there, reassuring me, giving me the will to exist.

You took care of me.

But I cannot do the same, for you’re too far away.

——————————————-

I basically personified the moon, giving it the name Luna.

This was honestly my first try. Hope it’s good???

All They Want, Is To Be Accepted.

The other day I was discussing with a few friends of mine about a project my sister was doing for her fellowship. (Her project was on ‘Views of the public on sexuality and prostitution’.) Out of curiosity, I had asked their opinions on prostitutes. “I think they wear too much make up and have 0 morals”, said one and the insults kept coming in. I sat there, waiting for them to finish but yeah they took forever to finish discussing this topic and when they were done, I learnt that this set of friends are quite ignorant, but I won’t blame them. They’re having their own mid-life crisis(s) like not having the right dress for tennis what so on and so forth. It is then that I asked them, “Have you ever thought of them as…Courageous?” because honestly after a while my mind set changed about them. What with my parents being lawyers and human rights activists and helping such people out, I didn’t exactly pity them nor did I judge them. These people don’t need our pity.They’re brave enough to give up their bodies for such an awful industry, they aren’t weak and seeking our pity. They don’t need to be judged either. Or rather, shouldn’t. Ask yourselves, especially if you’re a woman– how prepared are you or brave are you to put yourselves in their shoes and deal with what they deal with. I’m guessing the obvious. All they want is to be accepted.

Now, call me a nerd for doing my little research but here’s why prostitutes exist according to 85% of the prostitutes in a few European countries(And other places):

“The main reason for prostitution in all groups is money. ‘Money is cited by 85% of the prostitutes,’ says Kofod. ‘Some have to pay for housing, food and day care for their children.’ ” (source 1, source 2)

There, now again ask yourselves, how many of us are brave enough to give up our bodies and dignity all to be judged by society, simply to make a living and provide for our loved ones because we don’t have another option? How many of us can/ are willing to put up with sexual harassment and threats or other hazards that come with the job to provide for those who are dear to us?  So think twice before judging someone for the job they do and show some respect. Also, think twice before calling someone regardless of their occupation/designation a ‘Slut’, ‘Whore’, etc. Because such slurs are used to describe courageous women and are rather deprecating.