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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The one with women.

The number in the first two statistics are true and have been taken from here and here. This is here to spread awareness, and not to degrade or leave out men. Smile everyone! Also, leave a comment telling about what problems any one of you have faced.


One in every six women has been sexually assaulted,
and accused of “asking for it”,
or facing it because men,
(being the beasts that they can sometimes be),
cannot control their desires and should not be blamed for it.

One in every four women has been denied opportunities,
of climbing the gold-coated staircase.
The staircase of power and creative possibilities,
has been reserved for men,
(and at times women who agree to sleep with them).

One in every two women has a horror story,
to tell that will send shivers up your very existence,
for the story monsters are human beings
with pride horns and intentions like a sharp crooked teeth,
and darkness that doesn’t go away with a switch.

One in every one woman has given her all,
so that mankind can be kind,
and the world can be truly called a beautiful place.


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Instagram handle: @myspirals

Previous post: Family.
Related post: Life.

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Life.

Life is a bright sun, but it is also a tornado. These are not real stories, but the problems are real. Also, these are two different stories. I hope we survive. Instagram handle: @myspirals


She was only eleven when this had happened. It was a sunny afternoon and she wanted to play with her friends in the park. While playing Hide and Seek, her friends hid here and there and she was alone in the park, skipping and hopping excitedly as she looked for her friends. It seemed to be a good day. While running towards a bush where she thought her friends were hiding, she tripped and scraped her knee. Tears wetted her cheeks as a few drops of blood trickled down her knee. A guy in about his thirties, saw her crying and walked up to her. He consoled her and took her to his house to see the injury.

He used a piece of cloth and rubbed her knee with it to remove the blood, and she gasped because of the pain. Slowly, he started rubbing her thighs and when she tried to back away, he held her leg tightly in place “Let me take care of you.”. He touched her inner thighs and smiled as he moved closer to her area and her eyes dilated with fear. This wasn’t right. She screamed but he used the piece of cloth to tie her mouth. His fingers touched her in places that she now refers to as scars.


He was twenty-one. Life seemed to be a frolic in the park, happy and delightful. He had a mother and two sisters, and he loved them to death. They lived in a small part of the city. He went out to buy food for his family, when out of nowhere, something blew a hundred kilometers away. Almost in succession, there was two more blasts a little to the east of it. He had no idea what was happening, but he ran anyway. Not away from the blasts, though. Towards them. That’s where his house was and that’s where his family was. After running for ten minutes at full pace, he opened the door to his house as his heavy breathing slowed a bit. They were safe.

He took hold of their hands and asked them to hurry as they ran away from the monstrous blasts. They hurried towards the sea where a lot of people seemed to be headed. He saw boats and sighed in relief. They got on the boat and saw their home turn to smoke and dust as they moved away from the catastrophe. Refugees. Where were the refugees headed? Towards lonely hearts and no home.


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Previous post: Empty hearts.
Related post: This damn world.

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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.