Hold Me

Hold me….please hold me tight.

Hold me till the dawn gets dark and the sun starts to fall apart.

Hold me till the tightness of our hands start becoming, meaningless sparks.

Hold me till the softness of my touch starts giving you, the roughest marks.

Hold me damn.

Hold me in the vicinity of your scent.

I am eager to embrace your flaws, to kiss that jaw.

I am dying to get destroyed, to get close to your warmth.

This is all I want darling.

To get ornamented by your breaths, near my scars.

To get adored by your eyes, every time I walk through the grass.

I want to be that look, which gives your spine the meaningful sparks.

I want to be that wait, which makes your eyes imagine, every beautiful flower.

Hold me tight, please hold me.

Because I want to be yours.

Else, life is too good to be short.

 

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Inclination

Sharing our thoughts, moments, happiness and sadness is quite natural and a necessity. But when it goes in a way where with whom we are sharing listens but not understands, does hurt. Understanding being the core idea of sharing creates hopes eventually. And when these hopes break, it diverts the path of thought process. Also, expressions play a very vital role here in making and breaking these hopes. It is quite impossible to suppress facial gestures. These gestures clearly speak the difference between being interested and not being interested.

When we give voice to our heart we want people to not only listen but to get the idea of what we are trying to imply. Many times we see some predictions being thrown at us based on incomplete knowledge and judgments. And sadly it is becoming a trend. But this trend is truly and intently killing many senses and emotions making them lose their ability to put their perspectives forward.
Knowing every negative, each one of us is still taking forward this trend.

Words come with feel, which some are able to catch, some not. We train our ears to listen and catch the very specific meaning and ideology which according to us is right. This is creating the whole mess. The mess where we think we are right. This blindfold of right sometimes hindering our senses. Those senses which are responsible for making us a good human.

Pretending will bring us nothing, giving chance will. The number of times we will provide chances the same number of times we will get one to express ourselves and also to feel happy about being our own self in front of all. Expectations will bring out dummies which are trying to be one of all and not one in all.

The inclination is always towards those who don’t pretend, doesn’t judge and doesn’t expect. Our motion decided inclination. Inclination towards society, relation, bonds, and hearts portray our choices clearly.

My forever abetting gem, ANANYA

I saw her today, with her side looks.
Glorifying her beauty, with her determined looks.
Holding a pen, looking more fierce though.
Indulge in her thoughts, she can make anyone bow.
Sculpting a piece of art, she defined her inner soul.
Those words from her heart, made my mind explode.

The light looks bright, when touch her big eyes.
Her nose a little plump, looks arousing when she smiles.
Chubby are her cheeks, shines when she shrieks.
Her brows knit together, gives the idea of her weather.
Palms so small, yet strong to flick all.
Hairs so long, leaves your smile all on.

My friend, my sister, everything she is.
Helped me to grow from ground to hill.
boosting me hard to make me fixed.
Applauding my attempts and clapping on my wins.
Blithe of glitter, she sprinkles all day.
cheerful grins she leaves in her way.

The Hazing Black

His eyes were black, like a sea to melt.
Holding something bright behind, the furry of his kind.
The aura that radiates, tried to curve my spine.
But the strums of his purr, made my insight delight.
The darkness of this night, cloaks his bod outright.
The white patch on his paw, compliments this dusky midnight.
With a break of twig, he brings me back to this night.
Where the moon too shines, just to replete his line.
Matching my prints, he snapped me in no time.
Growling thunderously, he took his last step to trash mine.
Accepting my fate, i closed all might.
But nuzzling comes next, which made me soo uptight.
Gaining my sense, i brought myself to life.
Discovering, just me in this woody limelight.

The cage, she was in

Her husband was the biggest trouble in her life, who cursed her life with dim light.
Yet she stood in her life to take a ride in search of his bright sight.
Threatened to a point where he burked her sovereign side.
She gave away her sanity for the sake of her own life.
Still not valued she was blamed by her own child.
Who made her the reason behind his distressed life.
Seeing her wheeze, her parents came inside
calling her a defeat to break her foresight.
Giving her 25 years to this marriage was her biggest crime,
but stating her an idiot is the moronic misdeed that comes from our sides.

We all have a habit to judge without exploring the bottom. Most of us feel so crowned that we start forcing our opinions on others, announcing them wrong.
Even not satisfied, we start judging what is right and what not.
To all those who call a woman coward or an idiot, just keep yourself on her position, live every moment of her life, mind it her every small moment. Keep yourself in her place. You will get all your dilemma cleared.
DO NOT judge, try to help.
try to bring light not dirt,
to ensure a bright smile.

SHE, a mere approach

He was a player
who took her as a bait
to lure his deer
magnifying his sparks
to attract more sphere.

she was a meek
who took him as a friend
to shrink some grease
magnifying her feat
to become more sweet.

The artifice of his mind
played with her deed
tricking her deep
too reach his meed.

Our Chosen Facades

Sitting under the shade
in the vicinity of my mind
occupied in thoughts that jingles my spine
what it takes to become a flying kind
with so much worries yet a beautiful life.

contrary we are
in every pinch of rind
shaping some vows is what we like
to build a sturdy wind in the reason behind
promising the moon goes with the bind
To satisfy our kind is the reason in our mind.

yet not satisfied,
we wiggle like some fish in wine
breaking the troth in the end,
is what shines.
after all,
bawling for the sins we issued,
is the choice of our own kind.

Fixing his moirai

Responsibilities comes with birth,
same was his moirai.
He tried to brew his beans,
which tasted a little dry.
Culled into some fiendish fins
he took it as his destined previse,
still not satisfied for the umpteenth time,
he finally stood for his pride.
Confronting his abhorrence,
he assorted his path to magnify.
And for the very first time,
he charmed his face with a genuine smile.

 

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