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)

Kisses and cravings.

“I’ll make up for all the years I was supposed to be kissing you.” – Leo Christopher

The first time I kissed her, I lit up like a Christmas tree. Heat rushed to my cheeks, my cold hands warmed up, and I had goosebumps anyway.

Right before we kissed, I spent quite some time looking at her eyes. I noticed how her eyelashes curved like the corner of her lips, how her eyes were restless like the wind before a storm, how her skin made small crinkles around her eyes, and how her lips were chapped. I looked into her dancing eyes, and could hear my heart pumping the music. I grabbed her by her waist and pulled her closer like the flowers moving towards the sun. I pulled her in so that our waists were touching, and our face were only inches apart. I looked at her biting her lips, I felt her fingers cold against my neck, I placed my hand on her cheeks and leaned in.

I leaned in and kissed her and felt like this was the last time I would. The rush of blood in my veins made me hold her closer and tighter to make sure she really stays. She tasted like a sunny afternoon, chilly beaches, and tanned skin. She tasted like the wine we would open on date nights. She tasted like late night cravings, and throat burning scotch. She tasted like wild sex, funny jokes and strip poker. She tasted of shooting stars and petty wishes. She tasted like a forever.

So I kissed her passionately and tried to say the things I’d failed to say before. It seemed to be easier when no words were involved. I let my cold fingers tell her that I’d give her wintry nights, cozy blankets and hot fries. I let the loud thumping of my heart against hers tell her that I’d be just as thrilled when I kiss her after a date thirty years down the line. I let my eyelashes against her eyes tell her that above all, my only wish is to have her forever. I tell her that I’d always stay with her and watch Netflix and drink hot chocolate, rather than going out to meet people we don’t like.

I felt it. Her chest against mine, I felt her heart beating with my heart and for the first time, I realized we were both alive, as she pulled on my hair.

“The way you feel when you kiss her (him) for the first time. Like fire within your bones, like your soul has returned to the water, like every part of you that came from a dead star is alive again.” – Nikita Gill.

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Related post : Broken.

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It’s okay.

Go ahead.
Stand taller than everyone else,
Fall apart.
Feel afraid, or
Among smiles of
Chapped lips
And wrinkled eyes.
Speak out
Tell us what’s right,
Share your dreams
Nightmares, or
stories of your petty fights.
Praise every other heart that still beats,
And love the music
Pumping through your veins,
Just like it is,
Through every one else’s.
Let your hands fumble on the knob,
And your heart break.
Feel dead,
And then come back to life.
Be happy at times.
And at times don’t be afraid
to drown.
Do it all, love.
It is okay.

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The war has ended.

“Everybody knows that the war is over. Everybody knows that the good guys lost.” – Sigrid

Day one.

She felt the walls around her collapse, her eyes refused to dry, her lips could not stop quivering, and she was unable to move. So, she sat on the floor, her back against the bathroom door and cried as she read over and over the text her boyfriend’s sister had sent. She felt numb, and in pain at the same time. The tears wouldn’t stop, and she just could not gather enough strength to text back. This wasn’t possible. He wouldn’t leave her like this.

How could he?

They had just spoken an hour ago. He had told her things that he had never said before, and one of those things was that he loved her. And it felt like he meant it. She had believed him and so she had spent the time after, just smiling and thinking of him. The days ahead seemed to be happy, because she thought he would be with her. Now, everything was dark. She did not know what she would do when she could move, and she did not know if she would move. Her heart was beating but she didn’t feel alive.

She closed her eyes and saw him standing near the elevator, a smile on his lips on the day she had first seen him. He was looking at her and had no intention of keeping it a secret. She remembered him walking up to her and telling her that she was beautiful. He made it sound like something she could believe in. And so that day, when she stood in front of the mirror and looked at herself, she saw that she was. It was a new feeling, and it made her feel warm and loved.

She opened her eyes as the image of his smile burned through the tears, and made the pain unbearable. She read the text again. Was this really it? She knew she would not love any other guy the way she had loved him. She heard his voice, a low whisper of the past, telling her he loved her too. And that made it possible for her to get up. She had to see him. She somehow stood up, and saw the mess she had become in the mirror above the sink. Her eyes wet with black mascara smeared around it.

She started the tap, and water gushed out which she cleaned her face with. Tears still fell as she washed her face. And so she gave up. She closed the tap, and fumbled to open the door. Her hands were shivering, and her veins felt like ice was flowing through them. She put on a jacket even though it was sunny outside. As she walked out, she read the message one last time before she put the phone in her pockets and turned the cold knob on the main door. She knew he had cancer, but no.

“He’s gone.”

Day fifty-six.

She’s okay. She survived. But her old-self did not. She has a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes, and words that mean nothing. She keeps everyone who loves her at a ‘safe distance’. She is still fighting in a war that had been lost months ago.

“That’s the trouble with humans; we never see when the war has ended.” – Erin Van Vuren

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