Self-love or otherwise.

Self-love or otherwise.

Your first attempt at love
teaches you true love.
The ‘I’ve got to make this work’ kind,
the innocent, ‘vanilla is the best’ kind,
the unconditional, ‘always? always.’ kind.
For me, the girl was a reincarnation
of everything I had ever loved.
There were no terms and conditions,
no warnings,
and we didn’t take steps one day at a time.
Our bed was a cosmic sky of fairly dust
and we didn’t need hope.
There were a few fights
here on text messages
there on WhatsApp statuses,
but all was good forever
till one day it wasn’t.

Continue reading Self-love or otherwise.

Strangers with Pizza boxes.

Strangers with Pizza boxes.

I hope you like this. Read, comment, enjoy, and smile! 🙂

If you look carefully
when walking on a busy street,
you’ll see rainbow kite strings around the neck
of every stranger.
Tales of broken reds,
ribbons of blue,
poems of brown eyes,
micro-tales of turquoise skies
and a thousand more colorful stories.
But only if you look carefully.
If you do not,
they’ll just be flesh and blood
and you’ll remain flesh and blood too.
Of course, eyes won’t do all the talking,
but do let them start
and then your lips can bring the stories to life.

I’ve tried.
That’s how the Pizza boy became my best-friend.
Pizza one,
he was just a man in red
with a beautiful smile.
Pizza two,
I saw his eyes
and the wrinkled galaxies his smile caused.
I saw how his shirt was half-tucked in,
very similar to mine
and he had sports shoes on.
Pizza three,
He told me his favorite sport
and I told him I wrote poetry.
Together, we gave football a human story.
The ball that was of no man
and no fields.
The ball that fell in love with the net.
Together, we laughed at the horrible story.

I guess you get the idea.
See, look, converse, connect.

Instagram: @myspirals
Previous post : Life update: two

Give me prompts in the comment section below and share if you liked this!

Something about Naomi.

Something about Naomi.

There’s a quote that made me believe there’s poetry in everyone. Every story we hold within ourselves has a different rhyme scheme. I want Naomi to become one of those stories, too. Would you like that? Also, tell me the craziest thing in your bucket-list.

Some random things you should know about Naomi. She was fascinated by how you could see the northern lights in the eyes of people you loved if you looked with enough passion. She loved animals and could never cage them, not even metaphorically. Naomi always believed love to be soothing – something similar to hot showers in winters or over-sized t-shirts or maybe even happy songs her dad used to sing for her. Her favorite trip had been to the Araku valley where every turn of the road reminded her to breathe and every drop of the sky took her breath away. She often wished on fallen eyelashes and then kept them in a box and called it her bucket-list.

When she met Liam, love felt nice. It came hidden in glances, drunk texts, butterflies, confessions. The first time Naomi saw him, it was in a library. She was reading poetry out of a yellowed book when he fell for her. I mean, fell because of her. He hit his foot on the edge of her chair and tripped. Her first thought when she saw him: poetry and hot chocolate. Her rhyme and reason. His brown eyes were giggling as he got up to his feet and that’s when she had her first crush ever.

Soon, they were dating. Everything was going well except every time he did something different, she would love him a little more. He was crazy. One morning, he set up a canvas and started painting: he drew a pair of eyes, joined at one end to resemble an infinity. One of the eyes was his, the other was hers. Every night when they went to sleep, they would whisper ‘I really like you’ against the other’s neck and then kiss. It took weeks for her to confess her love but confess she did. One night, she leaned in and whispered ‘I love you’ instead. She never could’ve kept this secret for too long.

I don’t know if you remember but she loved animals and could never cage them, not even metaphorically; and she had way too many butterflies in her stomach.

I’ll tell you about her bucket-list some other time.

Previous post: The closet for the stars.
Instagram: @myspirals

Give me prompts in the comment section. Also, tell me if you like the huge capital first letter.