A Few Explanations

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When I smiled at my world

I retraced a track of favor

She had offered me

I helplessly stared at her

And stood with a query in mind

Why can’t she sense it?

I knew there were answers

She had to confess

Maybe, a few explanations

Crafted to stop me from her

But I was a meaningless chapter

Who failed to understand her

Who followed her everywhere

Who questioned her emptiness

Who stopped her many times

When she wanted her freedom

Photo Credits: i60.photobucket

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In Her Absence

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This was a reminder. Somehow I had forgotten to tell this. I felt neglected. Restricted. I was awake. I was dumb yesterday night, too. I slept by around 3 o’ clock. But then, I woke up– I didn’t know how or when. However, I was in the complete darkness. I sat on my bed, looking everywhere around for my cellphone. I couldn’t find it. I kept it somewhere. I needed a change. Yea! It was there in my backpack. It was safely hidden in the secret pocket. And my backpack was in the hall. I didn’t want to wake up from my messy bed and take it. I was restricted. I had taken a decision to regulate myself from using it. It had her presence. She’s in it. But I knew that I was helpless to do so. I couldn’t go on further like this. I had been like this since I realized that her absence crucified my heart. I didn’t want me to be ruled by anybody else, but she did. It hurt me. I closed my eyes forcefully. I tried to get back to my sleep. Then it began rolling in my mind. Her absence. I got lost. An unbearable pain. Those days. Moments when I felt that she’s there on the opposite side. Looking at me. Talking to me all through her shining eyes. Talking all day long. I was falling for her. I saw myself in those most alluring eyes. I kept rolling on my bed thinking of her. I thought I would be incomplete without her. I feared whether she wanted to know how I was feeling in her absence– it might hurt her, but I didn’t want to do it either. She must be always happy with me. She must smile like she always laughed at me. That innocent smile she had. That facial expression she had when she’s worried. That anger she hovered upon me while she was down, or when I shouted at her. Everything was lost. I missed her. I missed her presence. And she missed my absence at the same time. We’re madly seeking for each other. We didn’t understand why we’re doing so though. Neither I nor she didn’t question it. I was falling for her; she’s waiting for me. If you see that my dumbness is quite unusual, then I would say that I was living in a different world apart from yours with her. I was with her. We’re together although the distance or a few margins separate both of us. I tried to sleep again. I didn’t… I’m alive, still it hurt me. But I’m waiting…

Photo Credits: ourdiaryoflove

When You Miss Her?

“How can you sleep when you miss her at the most– still, you don’t know what to do?,” she asked him, lying on his widen chest.

He ceased drinking the bottle of wine he was having, kept it on the table adjacent to their bed, and stared at her eyes. She tightened her arms around his body, as much as she can, and waited for a sec to listen to him. He said, “Honey, I would, maybe, think of the priceless memories we had together. It’ll certainly hurt me– she’s miles away from me. But I know how it feels to be with her, at least in those limited pictures of her silliness I’ve captured by my mind. I know it. Because she knows it– how I feel about her, too.”

Photo Credits: lauramakabresku

Unsaid Story

A lost word from her

Has a story to be told

On his fake love.

Photo Credits: Tumblr

He Is A Born Writer

A writer’s sin

Home rejects, right to write

Thoughts bleed, words read

Photo Credits: Google Images

Be A Writer

“….yea!”

“So what do you want me to become in life?”

“I want you to become a writer.”

“Writer?”

“Yes! Why not?”

“C’mon..! Do you think I’m a good writer who could write down on kinda dramatic story plots, anymore?”

“Yeah! Trust me. You’re good at it. But you don’t know how good you’re at it.”

“To my knowledge, a writer is someone who copies ideas from what he’s been observing from the infinite nature, regardless whether it’s true or not, and explain its meanings thoroughly with the help of any words which are entangled to his insights and fantasies to make it readable for others. Do you really think I’m good at it?”

“Yes! I do…”

“I don’t think I’m….. You know, it’s not that easy like you think.”

“Of course, it’s not that easy like you think. But it would easy for you. Don’t question me further. Can you do what I said? I really wish to see you as a writer. Think how would I feel to be known as your love- as a writer’s love.”

“…may I know why are you saying so?”

“I’m saying so because you know how to write about me. Our love. Our memories. Our feelings. Our emotions. Our experiences. Our life. You don’t lack any words to express it; you already know what you’ve to write down. Why’re you thinking too much then?”

“Are you asking me to pen down about us and get it published for attracting others to share our story? Did you actually mean it?”

“Nope! You’ve mistaken. I told that I want to see you as a writer and hence you must be…. Will you?”

“What if I say NO?”

“If you say NO, then it’s your decision. It wouldn’t change anything happening in between both of us. It doesn’t matter whether you become a writer or not. What does matter to me the most is your love on me. You would always remain as the wonderful hubby of mine.”

“You’re my sweetheart. And I know our life would be more happy if I become a writer for you. But I dare to write on anything other than you, My love. It’s just your thoughts in me that keeps me moving forward. It’s your love on me that makes me alive. You’re my Eve and I’m your Adam, who live to love for each other in our world. We have had faced a lot of topsy-turvy situations and overt chaos holding our hands together in life. Our bond of love still preserves a charisma of that same passion to be alive together. Die together. We’ve been like this…”

“…..lost in love for?”

“I don’t know, My love! But we haven’t shared our story to anybody else within this 49 years of succulent life. I want you and you want me always in our story to make it refreshing for our love to cherish till it ends on that final day of happiness, on our bed, crossing our hands together, kissing you, like I always do, staring at my innocent eyes and dream under our polar star’s sight”

“I love you”

“I love you more”

Photo Credits: Tumblr