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.

Search of an Indomitable Spirit

A while ago I had parted ways from writing.

At times, in life, one just loses motivation, inspiration or the mere drive that gets you going. It is no mystery I had lost that drive. But one morning I had this sudden urge to write—write about anything that came to my mind.

So, there I was, typing away aimlessly, experiencing this weird sense of satisfaction. 

Yes, weird.

I was still capable of writing but my words had lost their charm, my work did not reflect my personality. 

I was lost.

The rush I used to get had dissolved. That feeling of emptiness was extremely frustrating. 

I was well aware that I ought to introspect, but was clueless as to how to start. Answers were and are needed but the source is unknown. Hence, I kept on failing abjectly. 

Honestly, I have got to find the path meant for me. Having figured out everyone else's problem is of no joy if yours are unresolved. 

Anyone who thinks they have been through this or have experienced something similar or might have any problem at all, feel free to email me or Whatsapp me. Maybe we could talk it out. And hey, if you have answers or any abstract advice buzz me right away. 

I hope to seek help and provide too.

Adios :)

Scrutinizing the Act of Intimacy

Intimacy has multiple meanings for Anna.
There is one side which is defined by the way two lovers hold each other's hands; the way their fingers entwine amidst a conversation; the way they hug and prolong that embracement a bit longer; the way they kiss and devour each other's taste; the way they undress each other...imprinting that sight in their souls to reminisce and cherish.

It sure is intimate, I agree.

Although it needs to be defined by the way they talk to each other; the way they keep a constant eye contact as they slip into a deep conversation; the way one tiptoes out of their cocoon to let the other in—a simple act of making space for another; the way one confides into another, voicing those demons in order to swivel out of it; and the way one's dark side receives love and affection coming it's way...with open arms or a cold demeanour.
Let's explore this territory of intimacy too lover.

Can We?