Seduced with love.

His touch was soft,
So much that often I wouldn’t even notice it was there.
But every now and then,
He’d put in rainbow passion,
suntan reality, and Christmas intensity,
When he wrapped his hand around my waist.
When he did,
My bare waist could feel his calloused hands,
My breath danced to its rhythm,
And my spine would arch like a quivering bow.
His kiss was gentle,
So much that often I only tasted love in it.
But every now and then,
He’d press his body against mine,
And put his lips below my ear,
On my neck and kiss.
My legs would melt right then,
And I’d lean against his lips,
My hands on his hip.
He’d kiss my neck like it had rained in a desert,
and he’d suck hard to take everything I did not love about me,
Out and replace it with summer lust,
Sexy poetry, and human fire.
His hands often caressed my thigh,
But sometimes it trekked north,
And my breath left my soul,
And my soul filled with insanity.
His heart often beat against mine,
But sometimes it was my heart and his lips,
And when he kissed,
I moaned.


Instagram handle: @myspirals
Previous post : In conversation with: God
Related post : Tipsy.

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Kisses.

Kisses.

Comment down below the story of your most cherished kiss, or your first kiss.


I’ve kissed you a thousand times,
Each time a little differently.
The first time,
I pinned you against a wall,
and looked into your whiskey eyes,
on your sunset lipstick,
and on your flushed cheekbones.
I kissed you with passion.
I’ve always wanted to die,
And you tasted like poison.

The tenth time,
You had sand in your hair,
and attraction in your eyes.
Vodka lingered on your lips,
And every story inside of me
That needed some courage,
Tasted you near the blueberry waves.

The sixtieth time,
We were naked on a red bed-sheet,
No eyes prying to find the secrets of my hollow heart,
or of the stories hidden behind your mountain chest.
I kissed you,
Your chest pressed against mine,
My hands on your inner thigh,
And you tasted like water,
My goddamn necessity.

The last time I kissed you,
You were crying and shivering,
I was stunned to silence,
As if a bullet had gone right through our hearts.
The kiss tasted a little salty,
and it tasted like the last fucking time,
I kissed you.

Infatuation,
Attraction,
Lust,
Love.
I have kissed you a thousand times,
And each time a little differently.


Instagram: myspirals
Previous post : Damn, your eyes.
Related post : Kisses and cravings.

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A list of things about her.

This is probably the shortest poem I’ve written so far, but I really liked the concept and wanted to do it. I hope you enjoy this and share it!


Here is a list of things she smelled of:

Sunlight.
Beginnings.
Expensive perfume.
Hot chocolate.
Feelings.

and a list of things she looked like:

A crisp white shirt.
Sushi.
Sunset.
Christmas lights.
Love.

A list of things she reminded me of:

Empty vodka bottles.
Terraces and stars.
Neck kisses.
Smeared mascara.
The color of sunlight after it hits a bottle of whiskey.
Life.

A list of things she was:

A dragon-slayer.
A smile despite a tiring day.
A favorite song on repeat.
My auto-correct.
Human and alive.
Home..
Mine.


If you want to connect with me on Facebook, click here.
Instagram handle: @myspirals

Previous post: How to: Be poetry.
Related post: Damn, your eyes.

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 ∞

Addictions and lies.

I’ve made the official Instagram handle for this page (@myspirals). Do follow and stay tuned. (If you’ve written and posted something that you want me to read, use the hashtag #ourspirals)


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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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)