It is really obvious why.

It is really obvious why.

“Why do you love me?”

“It’s really obvious why.
Because like moonlight,
you made my scars beautiful.
You tasted like burning scotch
and honesty.
Touching your skin felt like a walk
on cool grass in Summer.
Because you were my metaphor.

You remember how we met?
It was a one-night stand
and after we had sex,
you took a pen and wrote poetry on my waist.
You gave me hickeys and poetry.
You didn’t know how to make me blush,
so you painted my cheeks red
with your lipstick kisses.
When I screamed,
you sang songs to me
and when I cried,
you wiped my tears away with your eyes
and then wrote poems
about how the tides were high today.
It’s often that humans use
words for loyalty
and actions like a back-stabbing knife.
You were different.
When we met, you said you didn’t know how to stay.
Sixty years later,
You’re still holding my hands.

Why do I love you?
It’s really obvious why.
I love you
because I don’t know how not to.”

Previous posts:
Instagram: @myspirals

Give me prompts in the comment section. Oh, and share this a lot, please?

Let’s stay sober tonight.

Let’s stay sober tonight.

Abu was a storyteller by day and an alcoholic by night. Every day, till seven in the evening, he took money from kids and told them stories of black moons and flying swans. At night, after the last story, he would drink for hours. That’s when and how he came up with his stories. He was twenty-two.

One day, a twenty-year-old girl stopped by for a story. She sat next to him. With their backs against the wall of the building he sat in front of, they looked at the blue sky in silence for a while as Abu thought of a story. He wanted the story to be different, better, more real. Men in t-shirts, suits, and denims and women in gowns, suits, and crop tops passed by as he rummaged in his thoughts for a story. To his left, in a furniture shop across the street, the television showed news of storms in a city half a world away. That’s when the story came to him.

“This is a true story. My friend, who lived in Rio De Janeiro, loved associating strange theories with human nature and often shared them with me. He told me about the butterfly effect once. It goes something like this: When a butterfly flaps its wings at the right place and the right time, it can cause a hurricane thousands of miles away. A month after he shared this theory with me, his wife had to go to Chicago for work . On the last night of the trip, she decided to take a stroll by the beach. She sent him a picture of a butterfly that night because she missed him and wanted to share the things she saw. The picture was the last thing he saw before he died because of a storm. These two events aren’t necessarily related but I love it anyway.”

The twenty-year-old smiled, got up and pulled him up with her. They walked and shared stories for a long time that day. When she finally had to leave, she gave him her number and name. They parted ways.

Her name was Titli, which meant butterfly. He didn’t drink that night.

Instagram: @myspirals

Give me prompts in the comment section. Oh, and share this a lot, please?

Lost and found.

Lost and found.

I hope you like this! Enjoy.

Before I tell you a story,
I have a dictionary
that I’d like you to read.
I call it – My Spirals.

Home (noun)
pronounced /’memories/
– a constant blur of memories, and random pauses.
Nomad (noun)
pronounced /’lost/
– People who travel too much
– or stay too little
Travel (verb)
pronounced /’found/
– Taking someone away from one home
– and towards another.

I love to travel.
When I was fourteen,
I spent a weekend living alone
on top of a mountain.
I remember how often
I’d yell ‘hey’
and the mountains would echo back a story.
I don’t stay too long
with places or people,
with stories or poems,
with the light or the dark,
I travel too much
from love to nostalgia,
from photographs to flashbacks,
from home to home,
So, if I am pronouncing this right,
I’m lost and found.

Previous posts:
Instagram: @myspirals

Give me prompts in the comment section. Oh, and share this a lot, please?

A letter to you for a word/sentence.

A letter to you for a word/sentence.

Comment down below and let me know what you think. It’ll mean a lot.

To you,
For every time a woman said no.

I need you to listen.

When I was ten, my mom thought it was important for me to learn two things – one, that tomatoes weren’t vegetables and two, that ‘no’ is a sentence. The former because it was the only mistake I had made in my science exam sheet. The latter because every child should know the chaos not knowing what ‘no’ means has caused. My mother spoke to me about her experiences and told me about things that would make me human, or in her words – ‘ would make me happy’. This conversation became my bed-time story that night and I am really glad it did.

Last night, I read about what you, a thirty-year-old, had done to that eight-year-old girl. You will be punished for that and so, this letter is for you to read in one of these two situations – one, if you ever get a second chance to be better in this lifetime (which I know is unlikely) or two, if this letter finds its way to you in your next life when you’re ten. I really want you to become better – so much so, that I am willing to believe in re-births.

When you heard the word ‘no’ for the first time, what did it mean to you? For me, it was when I asked Baba if I could have two ice creams back to back. I was three. When he said no, I didn’t even think about questioning it. I just bought a chocolate instead. I like to think of myself as a writer when I am alone and so, I am going to give my memory a metaphorical reference for you to become a better human. When a woman says no, do not question it or try to persuade her. If that doesn’t make you happy, then get the chocolate – be genuine, ask her out on a date and see if you connect. If that doesn’t work out either, then just read a good book and fall asleep. This isn’t a metaphor.

Being human is really easy. Trust me.

With hope,
The man assigned to hang you to death.

Previous posts: I fell in love with my best friend.
Instagram: @myspirals

Give me prompts in the comment section. Oh, and share this a lot, please?

I fell in love with my best friend.

I fell in love with my best friend.

I’ve had a few habits
ever since I was little kid
and she knew them.
We became friends when words had no meanings,
and gave them meaning together.
I met her when I was eight, Continue reading I fell in love with my best friend.