Apocalypse

When I close my eyes, I feel the touch of your fingers on my lashes.

There is a scent of wet mud and hot sun in my room.

I have no room.

The feeling of your touch goes away as soon as it came as if it never was there and then, right in the centre of my chest a little towards the left, I feel a void that marks it’s existence every now and then.

I lose my sleep over the replayed flashes.

I have neither roll nor camera.

You come to me in the silence of the dark when sleep sits peacefully in my eyes.

You conquer. I am no longer myself.

Your being overpowers my existence and I become like a torn leaf in a storm that you bring and I go wherever you take me.

I have no where to go. You leave.

I dance to the full moon and sing to the sun rise and shine brightly like a fresh flower in the morning making everything around me romantic and exquisite.

One fainting breeze of you.

Spring of life becomes an apocalypse.

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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.

Dear You

Dear you, 
There’ll be days when you won’t feel fine and everything around you will stop making sense and there’ll be things that you need to get done but your body will protest, your mind will go stressed and your heart will feel exhausted. You’d want to be alone and nothing will make you happy. On days like these, think about roses that bloom in the garden with lush red petals which is often the color of love and lust. Think about how this one rose sets everything right when you give it to your loved ones despite having thorns in it. Your index finger often bleeds when you touch the rose but the soft gentle feel of the petals and the fragrance still makes you smile. On days like these, find a soul like that of rose which makes you smile even when it hurts. And soul doesn’t mean you need to find a human. Books, music, even rooms have souls. Just hold on to that soul for some moments and let the universe speak to you in silence. In silence, we all are one and you’re not alone. Those days turn around and smile back at you bidding farewell to the feeling of not being fine.