Her freedom

It was her ticket to freedom
or so she thought..

lying naked on the floor,
that rapidly changed color
from her innocent blood,

facing the half open door,
that once held secure
her imaginary family roots.

the rapidly changing floor
drew monsters around her
like zombie carnival.

Nearly dead she lay there
lacking all color and beauty,
that once helped her in hiding.

Like flickering candlelight,
life played games in her body
deciding the last threads.

The feelings were in place
and the reasons too for once,
death embroidered the scene.

a scene of theft and murder,
of wishful hatred and plunder,
of price one pays for others.

It was her ticket to freedom
or so she thought ..

==

I swear I do not know the complete story. I need to re write this with full background and filling in the picture a bit more. but I do hope you try to make a story here till then ..

Written for OSI . Sunday Scribblings , Sunday Whirl

To do , or not.

I was meeting him after an year. Time , how it changes. From having every meal together , 5 days a week and the monthly movie night; today we stood facing each other trying to find the similarity and the differences in each other.The very air around us was charged with anticipation.

you look stunning.
I always do, I prefer to assume.
And the same tongue too I see.
Blame yourself darling for putting words in my mouth for all senseless talks.
So you admit, you talk non-sense.
Only with you. So you won't have trouble following the conversation.
Ah! that too a favor on me ?
not really. Its an art i practice on you.

I looked around as people walked by us, and yet none of us wanted to either move to a comfortable location or walk away from each other. There was no reason for us to meet. And yet, down to every bone in my body, I always knew we would meet some day and stand in middle of road, deciding which road to take next. Finally he spoke.

you are getting married soon.
Is that a question r statement ?
A request.
why do you have to be the center of all dramas ?
you prefer adventure , I suppose.
always.
Lets do it each other's way then.
You marry some one you want and then run away with me.
you know I can not love two people at same time.
you do not have to love me.
but I do.
then marry me.
I can not.
why not ? I thought that's what you came here for.
You never asked, what I came for.
I am asking now.
Ask properly.
Get lost !
Lets run away.
right now ?
your call.
Wait! you are married right ?
yeah. you too.
Lucky guy.
totally.

And then we hugged, knocking out each other's breath with the strong embrace and a kiss that would seal our paths as one, forever.

I was meeting him after an year. Time , how it changes. From having daily skype calls and emailing long love notes while we fought our parents who could not accept us, we were finally married, away from all yet so much happy for the time being.

My real hero walked hand in hand with me as the lights came up on the busy street.

==
Linked to Magpie Tales , Two shoes , The Sunday Whirl

Lost Love

she lost love to her insecurities
to low self esteem,to baseless fears
she tapped to hard,a love so glassy
she lost love to her insecurities
the tragic conversations,a bit too many
he listened,but maybe she did not hear.
she lost love to her insecurities
to low self esteem,to baseless fears.



==

Written for OSI , Sunday Whirl

Habits : A way of life

I call it a habit,its not.

this tumultuous urge
to answer and question
before your question
and after few replies,
this wrath of words
that bite you
and me alike;

Its a key to moods,
to get irritated at rotten moments,
to enable joys at your mere mention,
to feel upbeat to have you with me,
and to put to death anything that bothers you.

I call it a habit,its not.
Its just me.
As I am for you.

Prompted @ Sunday Whirl

====

Below is an almost similar feelings expressed in hindi.

(dedicated to my love)

aadatein ...

saanson se bhi tez
sunai padti hain,
shabdon se pehle
hi bun jaati hain,
ek jawaab ,
kuch sawaal,
jis se na tum bachte ho,
na hi main khud.

bas aadat hai,
jhallane ki har us baat par
jo khatakti hai mujhko,
sanwaarne ki har wo din
jo tere naam se shuru ho,
aur paane ki har wo khushi
jo teri aadat ban gayi ho,

aadatein,
teri,
tere pyaar ki,
meri,
mere ajeeb izhaar ki ...

aadatein,
main un se hoon,
vo mujhse hain.

:)

Black Coffee

It was the same cafe,

or so she thought;

the smiling face at the counter,

guiding everyone about

every cup billed for,

recommending just the right one,

scoring more smiles

from the kind old coffee lovers,

a nod from the new ones,

and an occasional "thank you".

It was all the same

or so she thought

till he read her thoughts,

knew how she sheltered

her pain within the coffee

and sipped on,

ignoring the black coffee

she so hated,

but upgraded her taste still.

Written for The Sunday Whirl , OSI , Sunday Scribblings
Linked to Open Link night - the one place that never ceases to inspire me :D