Catalyst to Revelation

Everyone talks about being an inspiration. I won't lie, I too wish to inspire someone, someday. Though that's a conversation for some other day. Why? Solely because I know I'll be able to tell my daughter—if I have one someday—that there are a gazillion people out there.

Out of all those people, there will be that one boy or girl who will fill her heart with indescribable feelings. Although one day, those feelings will become overtly overwhelming for both or either of the two. There will be tears, screams subdued by the pillow pressed against the face. That day I'll be able to tell her that this is a phase. That even though she feels like it is the end of her world, it isn't. That there will come one time when she would have nights devoid of tears, again. That she would be able to listen to those songs again, without wanting to rip her heart off. That she will fall in love again, both with the world and herself.

And, when she asks me, "How are you so sure?"...with a smile on my face I'll say "because I too was that girl a long long time ago."

Hopefully, that inspires her just enough.
Hopefully, I'll lead her to revelation.

To be Liked or Not to be Liked?

It is kind of amusing how human beings can be the both utterly pompous and shockingly self depreciating.

I won't lie, I often tend to just sit and wonder how much do I dwell in self pity and how highly influenced I really am by others' opinion. A human being is a social animal and that's no secret but we just tend to deny that at times. I wonder 'Why?'

In one of such moments of over thinking I arrived at this rather absurd conclusion. I don't believe it is something new and I surely don't believe it is the 'truth' but there sure is no harm to present it to my lovely readers.

What I believe is that we almost all of us have this innate need to stand apart. To be remarkable and if possible, unforgettable. We seek approval but won't dare to show that explicitly as to avoid looking needy. We say we don't give 'a rat's ass' but there is always that one person whose proud gleaming eyes make us gay and hopping crazy!

One thing I know for sure is that people like being liked. I won't want to be liked if I ought to compromise on the values I have set up for myself...yet, being liked is a lovely feeling.

In case you are wondering, I am well aware this is a big fat public ramble. But then again at times it is a relief when someone voices everything you fear to blabber about. I just want to be that sigh of relief.

Drop your thoughts and opinions as a comment or PM me. Your acknowledgement is highly appreciated.

A Stained Night

One night she lost her cool. Things were broken being her rage's token. There lay broken glass pieces piercing her sole. She was numb though; time had numbed her.
Sleepless nights that were a diurnal  occurrence now, had numbed her. The silent sobs, they numbed her. Broken hearts and promises had numbed her.

The temperature dropped, the fire died. Her rage, she tamed. Those heavy tired eyes sung sad sagas. She gathered bits and pieces of herself and cleaned the blood stained floor. Got rid of the Kohl stained sheets and disposed the lipstick stained half drunk glass of whiskey.

It seemed normal now as she shed her clothes preparing to embrace yet another sleepless night.

The Final Seal

I’ve breathed my way to a long life,
Disengaged of emotions;
Dragging this stoic existence,
Looking for the awaited disclosure.

Passive, my way of being.
Waiting for the one whose exodus left my spirit it a state of blur.
Sigh. Here I am, holding those severed ties,
Which once weaved my whole world.

Love, is such a droll.
Fall in it my dear; the only face you’ll see is theirs,
When they’re out of it, every soul seems faceless.
Every argument, baseless.

That love’s withdrawal took a toll on me,
I hear Rihanna no more,
Blessed Sinatra goes on till three.

Resignation has resided in this intoxicated heart,
It’s the end, I know
Uncanny, how it feels like a new start.
This is just the final seal;
My lover in some ancient time had already taken my beating part.

Adios.

Disenthralled.

She lay in his arms,
Disenthralled from the ghosts of the past,
When her mascara had stained those sheets
And silent sobs had screamed.

Her catalyst to liberation lay right beside her,
He'd walked in,
But not swept her off her feet,
That man, let her ameliorate.
Rather than gloat in her miseries.

Her nights were flawless,
His days had a bounce
Those boulevard of broken dreams
Had been washed out.

Gawking at the pillars of life;
Life full of experience,
From her land of surreal realities.
She reminisced the time they'd met
And assassinated every foul fragment of memory.

She'd caved herself too long,
Bemoaning the end of that journey.
But gone were those days and nights
'cause my dear,
He hadn't rescued her,
She had rescued herself,
Caving her path to love and victory.

Bruised Conqueror

Waking up in the middle of the night,
Gasping for air
Struggling to breath,
Reaching out for some comfort—
She realized he wasn't there.

Sauntering down those memory lanes
Brimming with love and unforgotten pain
She laughed her misery away,
Thinking how it all went in vain.

Looking at those ruins of the walls
Her half hearted walk came to a halt.
Contemplating it's similarity to her own,
She knew it was her sister, they could stand tall.
Why not, wasn't it their life after all?

Seeking solace in the scars she bore,
She danced on the tunes of those ruffling leaves,
With an unsurmountable panache, gathering pieces of her broken believes.

Aimlessly she strived forward
Looking for a cocoon to settle,
A place she could conquer.

Faces

A vibrant vivacious wilding when the sun shines,
Epitome of enigma as the night befalls.
She had many facets to that face.
She had a demeanor so fickle,
Laughing along with the world,
Dare she let a tear drop trickle.