Snippet #31

All things considered I think it was a lesson in strength and hope and how to embrace the tragedy in order to overcome it.

The disaster became my soul and my words became lightening that crashed down on people, burning them with knowledge of my identity and their reality.

The sorrow of loss and losing and the titillating experience of enrichment with enlightenment, it all finally made sense when our tragic experience lost its hold on us and bled out, like poison seeking the earth…leaving pure, battered, corrupted flesh and bones to embrace the light…and revel in life in it’s wake, like all things snakeskin and miracles.

Intimidating…And Intimate.

Dear Lover,

Earlier, ‚ÄčI was the silence in shadows, prevailing in every corner and nook you never reached into…unknown to you but there. I was ever present during every evil you faced, supporting you with my very being, unknown to you still. But I shined bright around the bonfire in your backyard during last Valentine week. You stared straight into me, for hours on end and I considered for the first time how eye contact could be so intimidating….and intimate.

I considered myself the darkness to your light. The sharp edge to your smooth cut glass. I fancied you long before you tripped me into love with you. But when the silence around me shimmered with your noise, just because you called for me to step out, I knew then how amazing being noticed could be. How intimate eye contact was. This anxiousness inside me calmed and I found my resting place, my home in your arms.

With Love,


Snippet #30


Power Lust.

Just a second to convert arrogance to frantic hysteria. When every ‘I want’ got bracketed by “I need,” and the moment of truth etched in silence highlighted the absence of peace. Quiet Havoc raging, a pantomime I couldn’t control but I loved the characters, lived in their voices so I joined them and let it go on.

We stood close together yet far enough that no shoulders touched. For this was a war we raged within ourselves and our souls, battered and exhausted, got rattled by much. This space between our shoulders,  between a feeling of loss and a whisper of strength filled like a blue cavity, a dead weight on my chest. Deadly, painful weight on my chest. Breathing got difficult and eyes burned with the need to well up hence I built a wall against this traitorous heart because his power meant too much. My love, my respect for him- not enough. 

So I joined forces with with the soldiers of tranquillity, till he reflected in wonder and marveled at my placid indifference. He shouted, threw a fit and everything he did mirrored within these four walls, each character in the play became his mimic. Blue walls became our audience and my fears held our strings. It took some time for me to practice defiance and I began it by sharing Fluency In Silence.

Snippet #29

Nobody cares about what I think. How I feel. It’s always me asking them questions about their day, that cute dress they saw online, the girl from last month you were telling me about- remember her?-Tell me more. Tell me more. Tell me more. Inquiring them, throwing out details they’re surprised I still remenber, pathetically in hopes of getting some queries thrown back at me and being labelled cute things for all of it. Inquisitive. Curious. Caring that one, she is.

But never something I want to hear.

Never something probing. So when I get home again after swallowing a bucket full of gossip you shoveled inside me, greedily, I again bottle up a day’s worth of screaming- “Ask me something! Bloody hell, ask me anything and I’ll give you the best  answers anyone will ever give you.” But even that’s a lie now. See it has been so long since I dug up some realities and truths from my skin that I’ve forgotten how to go about it. My methods have become rusty. Crude, makeshift resolutions rise from this skin instead of making their way out of my mouth, like any sane person resolution ought to. And the first thing those resolutions do is complain of my jagged nails that dug them up and then ask about your day out (I’ve trained myself well.)

My tongue feels itself stuttering just at the thought of speaking for my heartbeats and broken promises as you stand there looking at me attentively. My palms prickle and sweat oozes out as if to say…shhh, I’m here for you, we’ll get by this together. This dilemma of how to get my tongue to do it’s job to convert my thoughts into syllables takes over my mind and confused, it just stutters, mortified but unable to do anything else. Because, you see it has been so long since I’ve dug up some of my truths to chuck them out into this world….I’ve forgotten how to talk for myself.

Snippet #28

All my attempts to outrun this death seem like words already painted black on my walls. Dark and foreboding. 

But people are always best shrouded in black. Their inhibitions gone, they’re the stripped down version of themselves. It’s fascinating. 

Snippet #27

The house was awake with shadows, and water trickling in pipes, resounding echoes inside the halls and so she slept fitfully, because the people inside her mirrors kept calling her name. Because the bones inside her body whispered truths she didn’t want to hear. Chilling her from inside out. Her brain too big to fit inside her skull, she was cold. So cold that all her tears had frozen long back and her blood had turned blue inside her heart. 

This house, she knew it was a disease, a bloody disgrace. Making her ill, killing her spirit. 

But it was hers and she had always been possessive of what she owned. Everyone knew that.

Snippet #26

When they ask me what love is, they expect me to laugh and shake my head in rue, instead I give them emotion.

Don’t do it.” I say to them. “Don’t  think about it. You think you know what love is? It’s pitiful, your love I say. It’s superficial, weak and desperate for validation on social media. Absolutely pitiful.”

They shake their heads, annoyed and tell me I’m too pessimistic. Not meant to understand love. They say that, as if I don’t have a soul filled with words to pour out in front of my beloved. That I’m bereft of something. 

I wonder how they don’t know  what love is when they profess to dabble in it almost daily.

Love is hot and cold on your skin and deep inside your bones. It’s fire and ice. It’s not the cool mountain dew you crave on a hot day, it’s ice that makes you shiver in anticipation and tremble in delight. What I felt was a hug so tight I felt complete. A touch of the hands I wanted to repeat. My heart felt so warm it was like a blanket I rushed to get into on cold December night but I forgot, Love is not so frail. It is powerful and strong. In your face with all the dirty emotions you can’t change because they’re painted across the sky. Love sears you from inside out and keeps you wanting more, while you watch your skin melt with a smile.

It’s pure- it’s ethereal, maybe unreal for some but only thing real for me.

Snippet #25

In the hall of hallucinations, the fool concocted a rule and a plan,

The sway of hips, the blush of skin-
He decided- would shatter the will of man. 


Part 3

He knew he was poison to her softness. Knew he couldn’t tame himself enough to save her from himself. The anger that had been by his side forever, now ruled over his head and held the reins to his tongue. 

He knew it. Yet, he couldn’t change it.

The viciousness of his days, only dampened somewhat by her gentle smiles, was irritated enough to knock her down and revel in it. His senses, blocked from facing the truths and having epiphanies…only allowed to enjoy the bite of the whip across her skin- the blueness it birthed. 
The intrusion became holy and love took a backseat. The abuse came into center stage and her wishes accepted defeat

Blog at

Up ↑