Whisky Words: Project (14)

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


Revenge I seek.

Crimson lips fade to pale,
Confessions of Love – a sting in the tale,
It was meant for me, I know it’s so,
Another path, you must go,
A heart of ice calls your name,
No choice you have, to play the game,
Stiff and rigid you play along,
Conform and dance to her merry song,
I watch her eyes, her twitching lips,
Her twisted lies and sarcastic quips,
I stand and stare in disbelief,
Holding on, in silence, to my grief,
Off you go to the maidens lair,
I know in your heart, I must be there?
Can’t you run and escape her grasp,
If only you had a looking glass,
See the story how it should be,
Then you’d know, you should be with me,
What’s her power, has she cast a spell?
Is there a  secret, never to tell?
life without you seems so bleak,
Just walk away, why so weak?
Do not laugh and frolic with her,
Remember me, I called you sir?
You promised me love and fairy tale,
My Prince, my knight, but now you bail,
You said you loved me, I believed it was true,
Now I’m confused cos she is with you,
You’ve abandoned me now but what is the cost,
I’m angry inside, broken and lost,
I want to scream, and call you out,
Please sir please sir I want to shout,
I feel like a child, vulnerable and small,
You’ve got nothing to say, nothing at all?
I’ve been discarded left here on the path,
Let me tell you sir, you will feel my wrath,
You’ve used and abused me, I know I am right,
Hang your head in shame Don’ t put up a fight,
You said that you loved me, I thought it was so,
Silly girl,  stupid, now I must go,
I’ll hatch a plan , revenge will be sweet,
I won’t be so nice, the next time we meet!
My heart,  it is broken,  you can’t comprehend,
The damage you’ve caused  – you were never my friend.

 – Carrie sherbourne (blog)

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)

Labels of the human market.

A big thanks to Hanna for awarding me with the Sunshine Blogger Award, and I nominate SarainLaLaLand. Click here for the rules, Sara!  RULES
Also, do participate in the giveaway. For more information, click here.


“Labels are for jars, not for people.” – Anthony Rapp

Humans have judged and labelled other fellow beings since forever.

  1. It was impossible for her to step into her school without eyes following the curve of her ass. How was it that she had to throw out her skirts and wear pants that covered her legs and yet the eyes wouldn’t stop staring. She couldn’t wear the clothes she wanted, or get drunk at parties. She couldn’t dance her heart out, and not worry about the gawking men. She couldn’t talk to that cute guy across the hall, because of what she had to hear for the rest of the day. Slut.
  2. All his life, he’d hidden his secrets inside a dark closet. He had had a crush on this guy he’d been in the same class with for five years now. Unrequited love can make you feel devastated, but it’s worse when the other person doesn’t even know about it. Eventually, he did think it would be okay to tell people the truth. It was a catastrophe. He lost all his friends, and was made fun of for months. He had to change schools and start anew in a better place. It still rings in his ears though. Gay.
  3. You remember that woman who was thirty and wore over-sized tees and baggy pants? It bummed you not to be able to see how big her breasts were, and so you just never spoke to her. You called her names to satisfy your ego, and then laughed about it with your buddies. Remember how she dressed up just once for the re-union party, and your jaw dropped? You could smell the happiness she brought into the room, together with coconut scented shampoos, and luscious lips. And you called her an attention seeker, because she wouldn’t flirt back with you.
  4. Who knew it was a terrible thing to be black in sun-drenched “developed” cities? I am black, and human. My skin is dark, and that’s why I could not join my college football team. My skin is dark, and that’s why I was supposed to be okay with sitting in terrible seats while the others got the best. My skin is dark, and that’s why I was denied the job I was most efficient for. Fancy starlit cities weren’t the heaven they were referred to as, or are blacks not allowed in heaven? Please do help me understand.

The world is becoming a better place, but we still cannot overlook any injustice being done to someone else.
To the people who judge and label, just stop.
To the people who are judged and labelled, stay happy. Let them judge, while we strive for happiness and actually be happy. I promise to you, that this life is wonderful if you choose to make it one. I love you all.


Previous post : Love thyself.
Related post : Earth.

Fairy-tale love.

Friends, if you like reading my work, do share it with your friends (on whatever social media you deem appropriate). Also, Happy Valentine’s Day!


“Someday you”ll be old enough to start reading fairy-tales again.” – C.S. Lewis

He was real. She didn’t think he would be.
The first time he laughed,
it was like fireworks in the night sky.
She could look at him and
see all the hues of emotions that colored his skin
as his lips curled from one end to another.
She could hear the waterfalls crashing hard against the broken stones
as he giggled like a child who’d just found a new toy.
She felt his chuckle spread warmth to her cheeks and
the corner of her eyes creased
like the white shirt he was wearing.
It was beautiful.
He was beautiful.

He always kept his word.
He made the chocolate chip cookies he had promised on a Sunday morning,
and he stayed while I cried at 3:04 am.
He expressed himself with a tint of mystery,
but with no boring exaggeration.
He wrote me letters,
on tiny post-its
The words he wrote, are probably what my favorite novel holds.
He made me breakfast,
And took me out on dates.
He had the exotic manners
of a fuckboy,
and the raw sexuality
of one, too.
But he had the intentions of a wallflower,
the introvert with faith rimmed spectacles,
and a love stained tee.

He could cook my favorite Madeleines.
He could dance,
And spin me around in circles till I fall into his arms,
As he picks me up and we make out,
On the way to bed.
I knew he was my fairy-tale love,
When we grabbed me by the waist,
pushed me against a wall, and held my hands above my head,
Looked me in the eye till I couldn’t just look anymore,
I kissed him for the first time.
And my foot just pops up.


Previous post : Stay.
Related post : Cinderella’s shoes.

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