Heart on the sleeve

To love is the most personal thing ever. You just identify one human and make him or her the subject of your affection. We human beings are born with a heart and in this real world of fake people and transient forevers, this heart of ours gets beaten up often and we become this cold distant humans whose hearts are locked up because we are too afraid of love and feeling vulnerable. That feeling when your soul is absolutely naked in front of someone you love is unsettling, it gives you a pittish feeling in the centre of your chest and your bosom feels ached to be hugged and held tight but that doesn’t happen and you continue to live like that feeling that void and carrying it with you wherever you go. You don’t know the beloved’s heart. You may know it and it may break your heart but you still choose to keep going on feeling strange and having that heart on your sleeve because for a moment Rumi’s words heal you and you believe in universe and destiny and Ted Mosby who taught you to never give up on someone you love even when it completely destroys you and there you are smiling and going on as if nothing has happened while your heart lays exposed like never before. I have got only one thing to say here-

Dear heart,

just own it like you have always owned it. Afterall hearts were made to be broken. Keep showing off the sleeve.
Or maybe just fade off slowly while you bleed with your heart on the sleeve. But never lock the heart inside. Never.

Advertisements

Butterfly

11811518_886936214674779_8032091432457021315_n

With spring fading away and summer sun shining, there are clouds that are creating noise seeking attention because nobody seemed to talk about the beauty of rains and winds that spread heavenly aroma. When one is in love, one is crazy. And rains bring out this eternal hopeless romance within me. On days when I am chasing my dreams and looking at the dreamcatcher by my bedside with the sound of the rain and soft humming of the wind chime, I am reminded of you. You’re not here with me and sometimes you are a figment of my imagination. This perfect soul mate with whom I want to share my Rumi with. Sometimes you seem real like a fairy tale. You are the butterfly kissing the flower that my heart is and then flying off in the garden with your pretty yellow wings. While I am the sunflower and sometimes I look like a daffodil dancing in the rain when you slowly suck my nectar leaving your footprints all across. This tale of love is as bizarre as this unexpected rain. On some days romance doesn’t sound so vain. Close your eyes and let my love reach out to you through this rain.