The struggle

She knew a bit of everyone’s story. but this exchange had a price. she lost so much of her own peace and innocence. The flower that she blossomed into was not of her vision. The fight of who she was and who she wanted to be, caused her silent death.

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cross the doubts

cross it off
I say in whispers,
But I know the voice isn’t mine;
HE smiles on me
And in my smiles he stays,
He made me for a reason,
And the reason I know now,
Is to make love happen,
And tell the world
Love lives. Right here.
Within our hands ,
And hearts that beat
Together.

so I crossed it off
All doubts from head
And instead,now my
Instincts lead

Non charismatic

some people lack
charisma-
and that’s their super power;
to hide in plain sight,
to blend in a crowd,
to be a stranger all life,
even to ones who see them
every passing day –
These are the people
I sometimes wish to be –
some days I so badly need
this immunity from the world
of known faces , known feelings,
of advertised smiles
and so much shared pains.

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Written for OSI , sunday scribblings

when I think of home

There was a time, I could have said I have no home – my parents own one and that’s a place I would be welcome always. I live is a cozy room with one of the sweetest soul I know and that’s a place I forever want to return each day – to the same bed , books , that make shift kitchen , those welcome smiles of my friend and our shared space. I feel grounded when am in there – just myself. The honest , open and enlightened. But love has gone some where else. There is a place I have started feeling homely even when I have never been there. A small bed facing the tv , a computer and book rack nearby , a huge window that opens to a view of a lovely tree that’s home to many birds. pets running around the bed in circles , trying to reach me as smell of tea and fresh cookies fill the air. That’s a home I dream of. That’s the home I want. To paint the walls with our smiles and to fill it with colors of our togetherness. Where each season is welcomed alike and celebrated with music and words.

That’s a home I want for myself.
That’s a heaven I will make my own.

Some day , I hope.

Promise

“I will always be with you” , It was a promise they had both made. She skimmed through the pages of her diary , trying to read through her flood of thoughts, finding it hard to imagine, she missed the signs in plain sight. Tears fell on the pink pages, turning them a shade darker yet the ink stayed. Her frail body swayed with each sob yet she kept looking at the cellphone screen, expecting any text or call from him. She expected his scent to fill the doorway any moment, but he did not come or call.

“I will always be with you” , It was a promise they had both made and yet she had strayed. She did not deserve being forgiven, yet she hoped he would understand. Just once, she cried, just once.

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Linked to sunday Scribbling , Sunday Whirl , Two shoes Tuesday