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.


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

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Happy Guide: A Giveaway

Hey!

hg-cover-half-size

Happy Guide (amazon) is a totally new concept and unique in the world of health. It lays out a crystal clear vision of a happy and healthy life and gives you powerful tools to achieve it. No other “health and happiness” book states WHAT to change and HOW to change, in a clear and precise way that anyone can use.

So, I am collaborating with the Author and his half-brother to bring this giveaway to you. We will be giving away three copies of the book in either a paperback format or e-book, depending upon your choice. This is an international giveaway.

QUESTION:

“What is one change that you want in your lifestyle?”

The rules are very simple and are as follows:

COMPULSORY
● Answer the question in the comment section below. (For 3 entries)
● Follow my blog. (For 1 entry)

OPTIONAL
● Repost any one of my blogpost on your blog (For 5 entries)
● Follow my Instagram : here (For 3 entries)
● Head over to my Instagram for additional ways to get more entries.

Before you comment, do the others and then come back here, answer the question and write a small list of everything you’ve done. You can answer the question on Instagram, too. The winner will be chosen randomly on Saturday at 9 P.M. (IST) , so the more entries you have, the more chances there are of you to win.

It starts now (7 P.M. IST). I can’t wait to read your answers. All the very best.

A villain who fell in love.

Is this a love story? I don’t know.

I was fourteen when I fell in love. The girl was beautiful. Not ‘eyelashes on point, pink lips and tiny waist’ beautiful, she was ‘fuck you if you think of me as a villain waiting for your opinion’ beautiful.

She barely liked me. Yes, we spoke till four thirty in the morning because she was blabbering on and on about her bucket-list and I liked every dream she had etched onto her paper skin with a pen-edged knife. She liked it, because who doesn’t love talking about themselves? (I know a lot of you don’t, but smile anyway.)

We met every day at school, and I would see her laugh. And no, I wouldn’t think about how pretty she looks as she giggles. Instead, I would laugh with her, cause the joke she had said really was funny.

I was fifteen when she said she liked me. I couldn’t believe it, but I didn’t ask her to say it again because there was a small doubt inside of me. A doubt that went ‘what if she changes her mind?’. And so I shushed about it, and we dated.

A little back story: A week before she said any of this, I had texted a girl (her best-friend) who liked me and things did not end pretty. My bad.

We dated for about a week, so it wasn’t really a relationship but I liked her and I wrote poetry for her and that is why I, at least, say that we dated. I wrote her poetry that had crazy rhyme schemes, and terrible grammar because two people who like each other don’t really care about that, do they?

She broke up with me and called it revenge, a very pretty name for a game that is no fun. I had hurt her friend and oh god, how could I? I apologized to her friend, cause in all honesty, I knew that was my bad and she deserved it.

I’ve lied many times after all of this, to the girl I fell in love with when I was fourteen. I’ve called her my muse and I’ve said I still like her.

It’s been two years and I’ve been with other people but something went wrong inside this futile human body or heart of mine. I look at people and I see them wearing masks, tip-toeing their way across the lives of others, throwing grenades and being friendly at the same time. It’s crazy.

I try to like someone, and I feel like I do sometimes, but I end up breaking their heart and making them what I am. A monster. A villain not waiting for your opinion.

I’ve been called a lot of things. Am I all of these things?

Am I a fuckboy? Maybe.


Instagram handle: @myspirals
Previous post : The thin line.
Related post : It’s okay.

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To my favorite author.

Dear John Green,

*Spoiler alert for anyone who hasn’t read his books.*

Your books are paper, but your stories are not. Thank you. Thank you for teaching me so much about love, life, friends, ourselves, our choices, the marks that we leave and about the great perhaps. For the thousand times you put into simple words the emotions that humanity has been struggling to understand. I know you did not define what love is, but you did tell me what it looks like, John Green. You made me realize that pain demands to be felt and that the world is not a wish-granting factory like the Genie. You taught me that everything except the last thing is survivable.

You were the light at the end of the road, reminding me that we never have to be hopeless because we can never be irreparably broken. You told me that love is keeping the promise anyway. You made me look for Alaska, and you made me let her go. You taught me that the only way out of the labyrinth of suffering is to forgive. You told me that everything that happened is just a fabrication of things as I remember them. You made me aware of the spiral of my thoughts and that life ends in the middle of a sentence.

You put me on the roller coaster with Augustus Waters and Hazel Grace Lancaster, and you showed me what love can look like. You gave me serious traveling goals for my bucket list, John Green.

“I fell in love the way you fall asleep: Slowly, and then all at once.”

You taught me that some infinities are bigger infinities, but they’re infinities nevertheless. And that everything is a side-effect of dying. You made me believe in friendships and forevers, no matter how long they last. When Augustus used his wish for Hazel, I realized that love is not necessarily fancy dates and pretty gifts. Its a thought wrapped in colors of patience, sacrifice, care, and humor. When Q looked for Margo, when he believed that she had left clues for him, and when he got angry when she didn’t turn out to be like the image he had, I learned to accept everything as it is, to do whatever it takes to find the thing I love and to be real.

When Margo told Q that everything is uglier up close, and Q told her that she was not, I realized that love is looking at all the scars and fears and faults and loving the person anyway. When Pudge fell in love with Alaska, I realized that love needs no story. And when he finally let her go, I realized that love is strength to hold on, and strength to let go. The scratches on paper that you gifted to us and the marks that you will leave behind are made up of realities and fantasies.

You taught me that love is not ending up together, and you taught me that it is turtles all the fucking way down. Hazel and Gus, Aza and David, Pudge and Alaska, Q and Margo are all part of me now. Thank you for gifting me the ultimate dumpees. You see, what you must understand about me is that I am a deeply unhappy person, and you made me happy, John Green.

Yours,

Just another fan.


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

Previous post: Inside my head.
Related post: Palettes of life.

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 ∞

 

Inside my head.

What do I think about? Is it love or my family?
Or is it a wonder trip and all-nighters?

I think of rainbow unicorns,
with soft wavy hair like my mother used to have,
and a horn that sharpens as a spiral,
much like my thoughts.
It has eyes like me father’s,
and crooked teeth that remind me,
of my sister.
It’s my family unicorn and it gallops in the sky.
I love them.
It’s not perfect, but it’s beautiful.
Also ironically, real.

I think of Christmas trees,
with a line of golden bells and colorful things
that hold within them,
stories of smiles and tears.
It is green and smells like a new day,
and looks exactly like what I drew it to be,
back in second grade.
I am a pirate and it’s my treasure box.
I love my memories.
It’s not perfect, but it has a star.
Also ironically, the star is from the sky.

I think of hearts on the corner of folded pages,
with red sketched inside of it,
a red that reminds me of my girlfriends stubbornness,
and how she blushes.
The paper is creased but the heart is still complete,
and it reminds me of a very old,
romanticized war.
It is my life’s ‘profile picture’ and I’ve liked it myself.
I love sketching.
It’s not artistic, but it is elegant.
Also ironically, three dimensional and inside my body.


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

Previous post : The war has ended.
Related post : Palettes of life.

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 ∞