Whisky Words: Project (10)

This is Submission TEN 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.


I want to break free.

She walked with him on the beach.They rarely meet and this is one such rare day. She withheld her craving to hold his hand. It was a public place and they could not be seen like this. Just them together would bring up questions, unwanted questions… forget holding hands.
They have known each other for years, decades even. What started out as friendship became close friends and then something that shouldn’t have happened did happen just like that. By then he was married with two children and she was separated. Why did they cross that line when they did? He just claimed that he wanted to make her happy. She took that as a valid answer and left it at that. When you are best friends with someone you love and respect them, a lot of their flaws are pushed behind. Probably that is what she did too.
Why do we do the things we do? Nobody knows. There are reasons which are very valid, but others do not see it. Only we know and the reason however flimsy it might seem to others is very valid for us, at least at that moment.
As I said, they met rarely, maybe once in a few years. She still remembers meeting him for the first time. He sat across the room from her. Her eyes darted to him every few seconds as she was talking to the others but neither of them made an effort to talk to each other and not even the next time they met. Once they started talking though they spoke and spoke, sometimes all night long. They thanked Graham Bell for his invention which brought them so close together even though they were hundreds of miles apart. When you bare your heart and soul to someone, share all your secrets that nobody else knows then I guess the wall breaks. The wall here broke too.
The initial stage was fascinating, but it started to wear off soon. The topic now came back to sex irrespective of where it started and it starts to get boring beyond a point. Especially if you are used to discussing a whole lot of things about every single thing in the world. They also slowly they started feeling guilty. That was bound to happen too. She didn’t know how to articulate her feelings. He would show his guilt by avoiding her completely and give her no rhyme or reason for doing so. They were playing emotional hide and seek, only, in this case, he would hide away and then seek her when he wanted to. There would be phases of silences which would kill her. Anything she tried to break his wall would end up as a failure. She would go mad and then when she just gave up everything and started building her wall up again, this time only higher, he would come knocking again and break all her defenses.
Today she has been fighting with her own thoughts though. Something told her that she had to stop. She had started recognizing things that she hadn’t done before. She was sick and tired of the patriarchy. She could call him only when he wanted to talk to her yet he wanted her full attention when he spoke to her. She got replies to her messages only when he felt like talking to her. Even if she wanted to go back to just being good friends he said once the line was crossed it was difficult to go back. He told her how women could never get out of an affair because they have nothing else to do and their mind was not busy they kept thinking of the same thing over and over again. Today she had to decide.
He asked her if she wanted to cuddle up with him somewhere quiet. Amazingly she stopped walking, turned around to look at him in the eye and said “I don’t want to do it. Not now, not ever. I don’t want you to feel guilty and surely not because of me.” She had a wide grin, She was happy she could say it finally and felt so free just saying it. She looked at her watch and said “Time for my flight pal, have to head to the airport. bye” and walked away leaving him in the sunset. She felt happy to have had the courage to break the relationship which till now she thought was her lifeline.
Till now she had trusted him and he had let her down many times by not being there when she wanted, while she has ignored his faults and dropped everything to be with him when he wanted her. But today was the day to break free, to make that change forever.
Sometimes we do things which appear as though they do not have a reason, but there is a reason, a very valid reason. We get inner peace when we don’t let others control what we do anymore.
– Shyamala Sathiaseelan

(blog)

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)

Whisky Words: Project (4)

This is Submission FOUR 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.


Feels like home

My day got overwhelming already,
As I thought about the most soulful place ever created
By mortal men and immortal gods.
It was not just a normal day
Because me and my wife had decided to fly home.
Catalunya was/is the most wanderlust place we could ever imagine,
and our wait was finally over
As we saw the faded lands of Catalunya
From a thousand feet above.
We could feel the Cataluniyan vibes already.
It was breathtaking,
The faded land became clearer and clearer.
Me and my wife both held each other’s hands and
We realised that this,
is the beginning phase of our very happy life.
We did not rush in the airport, at all.
Because every place of Catalunya
Was an overwhelming experience,
and the airport was no different.
We saw the whole airport like never before,
with sparkling eyes and
Curiosity.
What lay in the environment
could only be felt by us.
It just took a couple of hours to reach the main city.
We could see people communicating
in a different language,
a language of love and soulful freedom.
We had extremely mixed emotions throughout the wonderful journey.
Me and my wife finally knew
what “feels like home”

– Harsh Gehlot (Instagram)

Tipsy.

Do participate in the giveaway. For more information, click here.
Also, if you really like this post, do re-blog it to your site, it would mean a ton.


I’m a little tipsy,
From the day I tasted your love.
I wasn’t a fan of cheesy one-liners,
or fancy anniversaries.
I didn’t believe in wanting to hold a hand,
even four hours past midnight.
I could not even imagine intimacy,
and lust with my three A.M. shoulder.
I did not think I could be,
A Cinderella and an Anastasia.

You like sunny afternoons,
and me in skirts.
You love my Nutella eyes,
and my tan lines.
You’re -I’ve got no other way to say this- hot.
You open doors,
And still let me pay my bills.
You’ve got my back,
and my behind (*ass).
Do you have any idea what you did to me?

I actually miss you every night.
I hold my pillow against my chest,
As if it was you.
I reach the coffee place way before you do.
I wake up early to watch you sleep.
I do the cheesiest things
that I’d never imagine myself doing.
And I’m pretty sure of one more thing that I do.
When it’s four hours past midnight,
My fingers do latch onto yours, right?


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Related post : Kiss me slow.

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