i wanted to write about mornings, but I ended up writing about how each morning i wish i woke up to your texts like i did before. and how i still look at my phone wishing there's a message from you, and there never is.
i wanted to write about music, but i ended up writing about how your voice is the most soothing sound i have ever heard. how a voicenote from you, saying i love you made all my problems seem so inconsequential.
i wanted to write about winters, but i ended up writing about our first kiss in december, with the chilly air hitting our faces and a warm fuzzy feeling filling us as soon as our lips touched.
i wanted to write about the rains, but i ended up writing about how i always miss you when it starts to pour and you always found a text on your phone saying so and how even now, every time it rains, it takes everything i have to not tell you that i wish you were here.
i wanted to write about the future, but i needed up writing about you instead, maybe because the only thing i knew about my future was that I couldn't have one without you. cliché, i know.
i wanted to write about sunsets, but i ended up writing about how everytime we'd sit together watching a sunset, you'd end up staring at me instead. i guess our love was like the sunset, lasted a few beautiful moments.
i wanted to write about sins, but i ended up writing about how if loving you was a sin, i'd look god straight in the eye and tell him that i want no place in heaven, because the way your lips fit perfectly on my neck is a type of paradise i'll never forget.
i want to write about so many things, love, heartbreak, demons, silences, thunderstorms, poetry- but i guess we both know what i'd end up writing about :/
someday, i'd look at your picture, and my heart won't ache with longing. when i see you and realise that your heart is no longer my belonging.
someday, i'd see a couple holding hands, and it wouldn't remind me of you. of how you intertwined your fingers with mine under the table, and how you always gave it a lil squeeze just before you withdrew.
someday, i'd be walking home in the rain, and the raindrops falling wouldn't make me crave you. wish that you were there standing in front of me, and kiss me right on the lips, out of the blue.
someday, i'd look at my phone in the morning, and yours wouldn't be the text my eyes would be frantically searching for. and my face wouldn't light up like a christmas tree when your name pops up on my phone.
someday, someone would ask me what my favourite song is, and i wouldn't almost say, 'his voice' for it is still the most soothing sound i have heard, and i'd listen to it all my life if given a choice.
someday, i'd be completely over you, but today's not that day today i'll just sit by myself and write poems about you, trying to make up for your absence, as they say
There's more to life than the guy who just broke your heart. There are Christmas lights on a cold winter evening and people singing carols to warm you up from within. There are cosy cafes in dimly lit streets and alleys with vintage chandeliers. There are Friday nights when you're so exhausted from dancing with your friends that your feet hurt and saturday evenings when you sleep cosily tucked inside your blanket with a book in your hands. There are wine bottles waiting to be opened over a heart-to-heart talk with your mother and a pile of leaves outside your home waiting to be jumped upon with your brother. There are mornings when you wake up to the heavenly aroma of coffee made by your father and your sister's sweet laughter when she eats pancakes made by you for breakfast. There are days filled with adventure and a bubble bath waiting for you at home. There is sweet wine to drink with your bestfriends and karaoke songs to butcher with any willing participant. There are adventures waiting in some far off country with a boy who will look at you like you're the only girl in the whole damn world. There is more to life than heartbreak and I hope you see it.
To the guy sitting alone at the end of the library near the classics section, I saw you that day when my friend dragged me to the library even though I have no interest whatsoever in books. I'd rather go out and check the latest collection of clothes in a Zara showroom. But then I saw you sitting there, alone in a corner, a single tear falling from your eye. And I was immediately taken aback by the sight, until I saw a book in front of you. Before that day, I never knew people could cry reading books. I walked up to you slowly and sat down beside you to take a peek into the book, titled 'Anna Karenina'. You took a look at me and went back to reading and for some reason, that drew me towards you. Maybe it was the fact that no guy had ever done that upon seeing me? Nope, it was not the fact that you seemed someone who'd be hard to get. Your eyes, with tears threatening to fall down drew me in. And I knew I won't be able to forget them anytime soon. You finished reading the book and all the while, I continued sitting beside you, doing nothing but staring at what would be my first experience at love. And soon, this became a ritual. Saturday evening, 7pm, classics section. You would read and I would watch you do so, and then we both would exchange a few words and part our ways. Until one day, I found myself alone at the corner table. There was no sight of you. I waited and I waited, one saturday, another, and then another. Till I understood that you weren't coming back. Maybe you had shifted? I thought it was inconsiderate of you to not contact me before you left, but then I was just a random girl you met in a random library, while I loved you so fiercely, it was almost a religion. You left me, all alone in that library. But oh love, can I ever be alone surrounded by books? As Fitzgerald said, "that is the beauty of all literature, you discover that your longings are universal longings, that you're not lonely and isolated from anyone. That you belong." To the guy sitting alone at the end of the library near the classics section, I still remember the day I saw you shedding a tear over a book. And yes, you gave me my first experience at love, but it wasn't you who I fell in love with, it was literature. Since that day, I've lived a thousand lives and I've loved a thousand loves. Maybe someday we'd meet again, in another isolated library and this time maybe I'd have the courage to talk to you. Until then, I got my books.
It doesn't hurt that you chose her. She's prettier than me, smarter than me, not broken like I am. Her smile is brighter than the sun, her eyes are as blue as the sea, and her laugh is like the melody of the most beautiful song I've heard. She's your favourite book, and I'm just a page of it. She's really the obvious choice. I'm happy for the two of you, honestly. Sometimes I see you holding her, and it looks like you're scared to let go. I see her smile up at you, and I can just tell that she's lost in your eyes. I'm glad that you found love. It doesn't hurt that you chose her. But do you know what does? The fact that I almost had you. You almost loved me. You held me like that and I smiled at you the same way she does now. But something happened, and suddenly you're all I can think about, when to you I'm just a distant memory.
I recently read somewhere that when you die, you won't regret the things you did. You'll regret the things you didn't do. You'll regret not taking part in the annual play just because it would distract you from your studies and affect your CGPA. You'll regret not striking up a conversation with that girl you saw in the metro. You'll regret not telling your parents how much you love them. You'll regret not joining your brothers when they were jumping in the leaf piles just because you had some homework left. So guys, live your life.. Compliment a random stranger on their outfit. Cut your hair and get a new look. Buy your friends flowers on their birthday. Write a long letter to someone with whom you've lost touch over the years. Plan a sleepover. Laugh till your stomach hurts. Wake up early to watch the sunset. Learn how to play the guitar. Cook even if you don't know how to. Go have a swim in the ocean. Eat that ice cream even if you have a cold. Stay up all night. Sleep in. Fall in love again.. So that when you die, you have memories, not dreams.. <3
So this one isn't mine but I couldn't resist sharing it. <3 .................................... A lot of people ask me what my biggest fear is, or what scares me most. And I know they expect an answer like heights, or closed spaces, or darkness, but how do I tell them that I once took a class called Relationships For Life and I learned that most people fall out of love for the same reasons they fell in it. That their lover's once endearing stubbornness has now become refusal to compromise and their one track mind is now immaturity and their bad habits you once adored is now money down the drain. Their spontaneity becomes reckless and irresponsible and their feet up on your dash is no longer sexy, just another distraction in your busy life. Nothing saddens and scares me like the thought that I can become ugly to someone who once thought that all the stars are in my eyes.
I'm not a person; I'm a piece of music that you found while shuffling through tracks after your first heartbreak.
with a heart drunk on betrayal, you hit the next button countless times before you came across me and I told you that he was cruel and you deserve better; assured you that girls like you, tend to cry for guys like him, for once and then never— you never fall for them again.
for days to come, on lonesome twilights, I sat next to you when you plugged in your entangled earphones, and thought about him; you were always on the verge of breaking down when I whispered across your insides, and held you together; you felt free and strong, you felt like a lady of dignity that you should be, and I reinstated the same over and over.
all you ever had to do, was play me on repeat.
then came the day, when you were finally over him; you became a wayward, bohemian yet again ready to take the wind in your hair, on highways stretching and disappearing into the skyline; and as you should've, you forsook me; I lost my track in the happy tracks of your myriad playlists, and you never listened to me again on haunting nights, nor on delusional day breaks.
I went back to the unseen abyss whence I came, waiting for the day you'd have your second heartbreak and you'd, maybe, come across me, and I'd be there to remind you of the woman that you should be behind your blurry tears.
I'm not a person; I'm a piece of music, not meant for festivities, not for carefree drives, or happy slumbers, but melancholic music, for times when you're heartbroken; I soak in your pain, until I can, and when you feel full life again, you can forget me, but I never, forget you.
Thank you so much guys. ♡ I tried reaching your level, but ik I'm no where near. (You can skip if you want, I just wanted to give credit where it's due ;)
I know you said love is neither right nor wrong, love is love. But sometimes love makes you do things, things that are wrong and no matter how much you try, they can't be justified.
I still remember the day he promised me forever, but I did not know then, that forever was a journey that would end at your feet, and start anew, leaving me behind. He still says he loves me, but he can't look in my eyes, for I know there's some guilt inside. But that isn't enough to ease my pain, is it?
I blamed you, both of you, but I blamed myself the most, for it made me question myself everyday. Where did I go wrong? It haunts my every single nightmare, where you both mock my despair. I tried being strong, but I broke down again when I heard you humming "our" song, and I wondered then, "Can love be shared?" I tried erasing your scent from his shirt, but what about the one that resides in his heart, how can I erase something that reeks of eternity.
Tell me, does your voice calm him? Cause mine is being choked by shadows unknown. Does he let you sleep on the right side of the bed, now that he loves you? Do you make him lilac paper planes the way I used to? Do you write him love songs too? Do you both laugh at the same lame joke I shared with him on a silly night? Does your song lull him to sleep too? Tell me, when he shares his guilt with you, does he tell you about my sorrow too?
When he smiles at me, all I can see is your reflection in his eyes, that screams in agony to be freed. When he kisses me, all I can taste is the chocolate tart, the one I remember being so much adored at your house warming party. In every part of him, resides an atom of yours and I cannot unsee anymore.
He seems too lost in his world that's torn between guilt and love, that he doesn't even notice how I'm fading away; slowly but in misery, into nothingness. He doesn't seem to notice that I no longer wear the emerald chain he gifted me, for now I know, how easily stones can be replaced by diamonds. He doesn't seem to notice that the same smile he created is getting destroyed by his very being. He doesn't notice and I try to be ignorant, for ignorance is a bliss right? But sometimes it's a curse that annihilates each and every single one of your dreams. Tell me how should I feel?
My hate is replaced by indifference, they say I'm healing, but numbness is still a feeling.
You both found love in each other, but in the process, you destroyed an innocent soul, one that is scarred for life and won't ever feel enough.
I carry the sun in a golden cup. The moon in a silver bag. - W. B. Yeats
Would you believe me, if I told you that I taught the nightingale how to sing? That it's my blood that moisturises her cords just so she can recite poems of empty nothings to you every night.
Would you believe me, if I told you that the winds borrow shades from my soul to paint the rainbow that you so ardently adore? That now, it's just left with a few droplets of blue that the world failed to fathom.
Would you believe me, if I told you that I burn a few dozen stars every moonless night just so you can wish upon something that falls while you smile? That my heart was once a star too.
Would you believe me, if I told you that I sing cosmic lullabies to the Weeping Willow that you so carelessly annihilate everyday just for selfish human motives? That she smoulders while I sing and fades away when my throat empties itself.
Would you believe me, if I told you that I collect the ashes of every tired phoenix, that you crushed under your feet, and add them to my vinagrette just to remind myself to keep burning? That it suffocates but I still breathe, so that I can take my revenge.
My parents go for morning walks. Everyday. They've been doing that for a while. And I've been joining them for a few weeks now because they think I need it for a better mental health. But, I usually take the path opposite to the one they take since it's less crowded and more peaceful. But today morning, for no particular reason, I went ahead with them. And I'm gonna share something I observed. Something that made me pause the music blaring through my headphones.
The first thing was that, God! Mom can talk. So much. Early in the morning. And that too about absolutely mundane and insignificant things. Things that might make me punch someone since I'm usually grumpy and sour in the morning. But, what was more surprising was that dad listened. Patiently. Curiously. It was so earnest that I almost thought he's faking it till I heard him giving his own inputs. And although they were pretty short, those inputs weren't "hmm, achcha and theek hai." XD
They talked about weather. About home. Grocery. Vegetable prices. Breakfast. Lunch. Dinner. They smiled at some acquaintances and then gossiped about them as they passed by, which I would have found cringeworthy had I not been so engrossed in eavesdropping.
And at one point, mom did something that almost made me facepalm. She pointed at a flock of pigeons feeding on grains and said to dad, "See, the leader pigeon is eating up everything and not letting others have any of it." And that wasn't even the end of it. My dad, who otherwise is a serious man with a very solemn persona, replied, "No. No. It's nothing like that. They're taking turns. They'll eat one by one."
And It wasn't even like they were being funny because no one was around. They were talking as if it was a completely normal conversation to have.
That made me think of the people I've cried over because they made me feel like I was too hard to love. The people I wasn't enough for. The people I was a mistake for. The people I was just another girl for.
Love really is simple, if you let it be. It can be the easiest thing possible.
Love, sometimes, is just a person you can discuss pigeons with. And that can be special enough. It doesn't have to be complicated. Why make it so?
So, wait, okay? Wait for the girl who'd discuss even the pigeons with you on days you have nothing to talk about. Wait for the man who'd reply to your pigeon talks as if it's the only normal thing to do.
Wait. Hold on. Take a deep breath in. There's too much love in this world. And we can all have our fill.