Travel bird.

Instagram handle: @myspirals


Go to places,
Find mountains that remind you of people,
And seas that make you forget everything.
Discover old streets that whisper stories,
and broken buildings that look like broken bones.
Sleep out the day, learn to love the dark.
Sleep out the night, learn to love the light.
Close your eyes and feel the wind,
and rustle like a tree under the burning sun.
Giggle under the stars,
and among the ruins,
Just like the people who lived there
A long time ago,
probably did.
Paint your passports,
and cut in your bucket list,
instead of your wrists.


If you want to connect with me on Facebook, click here.

Previous post: Sober.
Related post: It’s okay.

Friends, if you like reading my work, do share it with your friends (on whatever social media you deem appropriate). It would be amazing to have more people reading my compositions. Please help my infinity grow bigger ∞

Whisky Words: Project (12)

This is Submission TWELVE of The Whiskey Words. The Whiskey Words is a writing project (and a giveaway). The winner will be announced on 1st of April.


You fixed me with the price of ruining yourself

Do you remember the first thing I told you when you said that you loved me?

“You’re mistaken.”

With “I love you too” written all over my tongue and all over my lips and all over my eyelids, I said “you’re mistaken”. You kept repeating “I love you” and I kept repeating “you’re mistaken”.

But every letter, every word that came out of your mouth was like a pink cloud of cotton candy, and every syllable you uttered reached me decorated in a bed of interwoven wild flowers.

And I gave in. You know how much I love flowers. Of course I gave in.

But little did you know that I only know how to kiss with my teeth and draw blood from your tongue. Little did you know that every part of me that you touch will be set ablaze in flames. I will burn, and I’ll burn you along. Little did you know that I cry tears of blood and when you try to wipe my eyes, you’ll be the one who ends up wounded.

But soon enough you realized all of this. All of me.

Everything changed then. Dark and grey and heavy clouds loomed over what once were your blue-skied-eyes, and with every blink, the sky above our heads ripped apart and it bled tears.

Tears that poured down on me. Tears that, when kissed by my burnt skin, turned into smoke and extinguished every part of me that was burning. Tears that drenched me. My hair and my eyelashes. I was finally crying tears and not blood. Tears that trickled down my face, my forehead, my nose, and settled down on my lips. My lips were full of moisture, full of life.

I was fixed and I wanted to kiss you with those lips.

But when I opened my eyes, you had already backed away. You were already far too gone.

Maybe,
You should have listened to me when I said “you’re mistaken”.

Because now all that’s left of us is you repeating
“I was mistaken”.
And
Me repeating
“I love you”.

You fixed me with the price of ruining yourself.

– Aayushma Manandhar (blog)

 

Whiskey Words: Project (3)

This is Submission THREE of The Whiskey Words. The Whiskey Words is a writing project (and a giveaway), and if you’d like to participate, here are the rules.


Dark Chocolate

Bittersweet. Addictive. The smell makes you want more of it, but people can die from its over-dose. Melts in your mouth and becomes a part of you. Inseparable. Dark things can be beautiful. The hint of bitterness, the darkness is what makes it so special. So different from the others. Peacefully chaotic. Elegantly dark. Devastating.

The madness in her eyes was clearly visible, but only to the people who dared to see. The rebel. The fire. The catastrophe. You could clearly feel the storm coming but only if you were courageous enough to get into it. The way the sound of her speech touched your heart was exactly how the lightning strikes the earth. Her touch made you feel as if someone just pinched your soul. How can something be so irresistible? When she looked at you, even though you did not know that she was looking, there was something enigmatic that followed you. You felt her winsome gaze on yourself. Her dark-brown hair felt like clouds of chocolate. I knew I was devastated when I touched her lips but this tragedy was so alluring, I could never afford to end it. She was where my demons hid, but who knew that these demons would destroy me? Who knew that my sweet little baby could be so bitter? Who knew that the catastrophe that I adored, and will always adore could literally slaughter me so charmingly?

•Change in perspective•

 

My baby. Honey. Looking at him feels like someone is calming down my demons. I start to realize what peace is. He makes me believe in the impossible. I had always overlooked this slot in my life, the slot where lay the belief that I can be loved. I had so much love to give, so much, but who could bear it? Him. He loves me. All of me. And I love him. More than anything and everything. I feel like I finally found what was lost. My soul feeds on his. That pleasure. That satisfaction.

His smell reminds me of old red wine. His touch, each and every touch, feels heavenly. When his lips touches mine, my lips finally feels like it has got what it had been looking for. When I look him in the eyes, I see his soul. I literally look inside him and that intensity cannot be matched. He is my breath. My heartbeat. The blood running through my veins.

He is the sadness in my eyes. The air to my fire. Making me cross all limits. Helping grow out of all boundaries. Encouraging me to go wherever I want to go. Awakening my catastrophe. I love him so much. He fills my emptiness. Completes me. Satisfies my soul. But he is completely mine. ONLY mine. And only I can complete him. Only I can love him so much. ONLY ME.

He used to love my obsessiveness earlier. He admired my storms. He played with my demons. Our darkness matched with each other. I was the sweetest little girl according to him. His little baby. Then why did he have to do this?

Why did you force your cute little baby to do this to you? Where did your love for my madness go, honey?

I don’t lack anything, do I? Is my love not enough for you? I never forced you to do anything, I always do what makes you happy, then why can’t you also take care of my love? Nothing can come between us, baby. Nothing can take you away from me. Nothing can separate us. Not this world, or our friends or enemies, or our families, or us. I cannot live without you. Then why are you forcing me to? I cannot let anything come between us or our happiness. You are my eternity. Then why did you speak of separation? Can’t you see the passion I have for you in my eyes? I cannot let you break us, sweetheart. I cannot see you with somebody else. You are meant for me. For my madness, my chaos, my insanity. I cannot share you, but your happiness is equally important to me. I want to see you happy. Your smile is my soul food. Your happiness lies in freedom from me? You want separation from me? You will get it. Breaking us makes you happy? Let’s break us then. But only I can break us. You are only mine. MINE. And so I am forced to do this. I love you, my baby. I will always love you, and so I am giving you your happiness. I am your dark chocolate, right? This dark chocolate will grant you your peace. Forever.

And so I mixed the poison in the dark chocolate cake that I had made for our anniversary. Served it to him, and peacefully watched my eternal love, rest.

Rest in peace.

– Anchal Rani (Instagram)

A necklace of hope.

Ghosts do exist.

  1. The first time she was haunted by one was when she fell in love. When he kissed her for the first time, her hands found his hair, but her thoughts could not find a reason to believe that he would stay. She opened her eyes mid-way, and looked at him and all she saw was her fear. She felt sweat on her forehead, as she pulled away. Her eyes darted here and there as she saw flashes of the last time someone had promised to stay and hadn’t. The ghost of empty promises and broken hearts left her tongue dry. He did not seem bothered at all.
  2. He believed in ghosts because they just wouldn’t let him be. Every time he decided to move on, and build himself a life he wanted, the ghost of the expectations of his parents tied his hand behind him, and slowly choked his will to believe. His wrist had scars of him trying to untie himself, but they were mere reminders of his shattered hopes and dreams.
  3. She just could not forget what he had done to her. Every time she went on a new date, tried to move on, he popped up in her thoughts. She loved him. She still did. How can she move on knowing that he was what she wanted. She wanted expensive champagne, and cheap nail polish and warm blankets with him by her side. The ghost of her past haunted her on every new date, and she just could not let it go.
  4. He did not want to hurt someone. He feared power and authority for the sole purpose of staying unable to inflict pain. He did not trust himself enough to believe that if given the chance, he wouldn’t choose himself over others. He knew that choosing oneself is how you progress, but not at the cost of someone he loved? The ghost of his darkness made him fear himself.
  5. She had lost her friend. Every time she sat on her terrace and gazed at the city that was unaware of her loss, she saw shadows of her friend sitting beside her, a cigarette embraced in her fingers, a carefree smile reaching her eyes. One that is lost can never really be lost again. And so she held onto the ghost of her friend, a shimmering and fading image that made her believe that maybe it would all be okay.
  6. There was no way out of this. He sat in the corner of his room, tears running down his red cheeks. Everything seemed to collapse on him, and he just could not pick himself up again. He wanted to believe, he tried to, but there was nothing to believe in. No hope bloomed in the garden inside his chest. The ghost of hopelessness held a knife to his wrist, and as the blood trickled down, he felt free.

We are all haunted in some way or another. We just have to hold on and believe in ourselves. Ghosts do exist, but just in our heads.

Hope.

“I hope to arrive at my death, late, in love, and a little drunk.” – Atticus


Previous post : The Writing Project.
Related post : You, the universe and stardust.

Friends, if you like reading my work, do share it with your friends (on whatever social media you deem appropriate). It would be amazing to have more people reading my compositions. Please help my infinity grow bigger ∞

Mirages and ink bottles.

I am a pen. This might sound like a metaphorical exaggeration, or an ornamented fact, but it is what I am. Every time I hear the same song that you loved on the radio, it’s like a cut on the side of my arm, and the ink just flows out. Every nick and cut that I get onto my calloused skin, just turns into a bruise that I wear as battle scars and gripping stories. Every time I look at the sunlight through the tinted windows of my car, I cannot help but associate the golden hue to the hazel of your eyes. Every time I look at the vast emptiness that expands beyond the final steps of a cliff, I cannot help but imagine the jagged rocks hidden in snow to be my best friends crooked front teeth, or the jump to the bottom to hide stories of wonderland. You never know what’s hiding just beyond the point your eyes cannot see.

I don’t consider myself a writer, or the pen as a fancy extension of my arm. I don’t believe in using words to heal my pain, or writing as an escape from this cruel world. I don’t make routines and set time periods for the words to find a way out, and I don’t plan on keeping them inside of me where the dark waves can hit the sun drenched sand and wipe them away. I am not a lonely or broken man wandering on hot sidewalks among a cluster of thoughts and people, wondering why you left me, or why no one talks to me the way you did.

When I see the wailing child staring at the ice cream vendor as if that’s all he ever wanted, I cannot help but smile and think about the wishes I’ve had as a child and even as an adult. And when all of this stays in my mind, my brain becomes a volcanic land with words as molten ink, erupting onto snow sheets, paper lines, and electric screens. I don’t wait for the right moment or for the memorable one. I just find things beautiful, and I let you know. When an injured boy cries on the television and countries blow up, or a young girl is found dead on the streets, or you’re just the happiest you could ever be, you’ll bleed blue too. We all will. There’s nothing hiding beyond the point your eyes cannot see, except mirages and an ink bottle.


Previous post : This damn world.
Related post : Tsunami

Friends, if you like reading my work, do share it with your friends (on whatever social media you deem appropriate). It would be amazing to have more people reading my compositions. Please help my infinity grow bigger ∞