Addictions and lies.

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I’m addicted to coffee. There are more dirty mugs in my sink and empty coffee bottles in my dustbin than the number of people I trust. The first conversation I have in the day is with a steaming mug of coffee that smells of hopes and reality. I wrap my fingers around the warmth and let it wake me up, despite me not having slept at all last night. The bitter taste of coffee burning my tongue is like a pat on the back, and I am all for motivation. I am high on coffee every day.

I’m addicted to music. The melody is my drug and I cannot live without it. I sleep to the voice of Ed Sheeran and wake up to Selena Gomez. Which is why I’d ask you to ‘kiss me’ at night and have anxiety attacks as I run through the jungles of my mind like ‘wolves’ in the morning. I’d relate to the lyrics of a song more than have feelings of déjà vu’s. I’ve been called an introvert, but I am not. I am an extrovert and I socialize a lot with music.

I am addicted to lying. I have this weird habit of telling myself every morning I will sleep that night, even though it is nothing but a white lie. I’ve pretended to be over someone, even though I still look for them in the hallways of my university. I’ve said I am okay way too many times, for even that to be healthy. When you fake a smile often enough, it becomes a habit and your smile is reduced to being just a twitch in your muscles.

I am addicted to her. I am addicted to the way we read poetry to each other like lullabies on a Tuesday night, and the way she giggles at dark humor. I love the way she looks at me in dim lights, and the way she trips over nothing. I love the smell of her hair, honey and coconut. She isn’t sunshine. She is hot chocolate and Christmas.

But most of all, I am addicted to the way the butterflies in my stomach go crazy when she whispers in my ears as we take a sip from the warm mugs of coffee with ‘Skin’ playing somewhere in the house. “I love you too.” Oh, what a beautiful lie.


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Previous post: Wake up call.
Related post: Bare waists and midriffs.

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Home and him.

It has been a while since I had posted something I’ve written, and I really wanted to. The Whiskey Words is still going on. Tomorrow is the last date to submit, though. Enjoy!


I’ve been asked
time and time again,
How can a person be your home?
Now, how do I explain this?

When I am with him,
I wear comfy pajamas and absolutely no make up.
I confine to the wall of his arms,
and cry with my face buried in his shoulder
like a kid holding a pillow to muffle his screams.
His dimples are the trampoline to my fingers.
Every time Lust and love,
his best-friends, and our guests
come over,
I dress up fancy and serve myself.
Honestly, I just sleep all day in his arms.
And even though I need no-one,
He protects me anyway.
He makes sure I walk on the right side of the street,
And that my hair is tucked behind my ear.
Home isn’t built in a day,
and neither were we.
Like wizards without their chosen wands,
And Ross without Rachel,
I am alright without him,
but completely empty inside.
If I was a goddamn house,
he would be my furniture.
Like a sailor on a quivering boat,
in a black night storm,
I miss him when he isn’t around.

What else do you get homesick for,
if not a home?
And I love him so much,
with all my heart.
Home is where the heart is.

So yeah, he is my home.
Two arms, wavy hair, brown eyes,
breathy voice and a musical heartbeat.


Also, I have thought about doing a little something on the side. I’ve written an erotica and published it on Wattpad (you can read it even if you don’t have an account), and might convert it into a series if you guys like it. Do read and respond by leaving comments here or on wattpad. Go there by clicking : here.

Whisky Words: Project (6)

This is Submission SIX 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.


Him

His white shirt,
His deep blue jeans,
His disheveled good hair,
And a smile so sweet;
He had me at ‘Hi’
Oh, how he knew it,
I was falling,
He pushed me off the cliff.

– Zoya Ejaz (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)

Bare waists and midriffs.

I don’t know why every time his fingers trail my bare waist, I feel much more than just the shiver of intimacy run up my spine.

I try to wander the corridors of my mind to find out why he feels much more than just someone I make out with.

I cannot help but notice that it’s much more than just his hair that I grab onto now. I often envelop his hands so tightly with mine.

I wake up late into the nights and crave for his lips to be pressed against my neck, and I fall asleep with my hands wrapped around the pillow as if it were him.

I repeatedly catch myself thinking about him as I tie my hair back into the ponytail that he obsesses over.

Whenever he picks me up, and looks me in the eye, I don’t look at his lips while biting mine anymore. Instead, I kiss his nose and his chest, and feel his heart beating against my lips. I think of his smile as his kisses just grazes my midriff.

Why do I get all excited and tensed as he softly tucks my hair behind my ear?

I don’t know.


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

Previous post : Palettes of life.
Related post : Kisses and cravings.

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 ∞