While striding those stranger lanes,
She once again bumped into familiar thoughts
Stood face to face with the person
Who always started the conversation with ‘why?’
But this time, she was the one who asked him 'why?'
Why he has to always hover around her
Haunt her thoughts, and intrude her dreams
Why he has to ask ‘why?’
When she knew there were no answers to his questions
Or if there were any, they were all full of pain
She refused to answer such questions
Sweeping everything under the carpet
She has learnt to survive with that plastic face
Her almond eyes learnt the art of expressing the reverse
Her flaky cheeks were trained to blush on prosaic instants
Her dry lips, coated with thick layer of gloss were pro
For smiling and kissing on those unknown cheeks
She wondered and pondered and stared at those whys
And in return got a sharp look that pierced through her eyes
Straight to her heart
And then,
The lampposts saw the street turning red
As droplets of blood dribbled out of her wounded heart
She once again bumped into familiar thoughts
Stood face to face with the person
Who always started the conversation with ‘why?’
But this time, she was the one who asked him 'why?'
Why he has to always hover around her
Haunt her thoughts, and intrude her dreams
Why he has to ask ‘why?’
When she knew there were no answers to his questions
Or if there were any, they were all full of pain
She refused to answer such questions
Sweeping everything under the carpet
She has learnt to survive with that plastic face
Her almond eyes learnt the art of expressing the reverse
Her flaky cheeks were trained to blush on prosaic instants
Her dry lips, coated with thick layer of gloss were pro
For smiling and kissing on those unknown cheeks
She wondered and pondered and stared at those whys
And in return got a sharp look that pierced through her eyes
Straight to her heart
And then,
The lampposts saw the street turning red
As droplets of blood dribbled out of her wounded heart
7 Write your comment:
awesome!!! while reading i could relate to 99.99% of it! loved it!
Streets at night. Beautiful, aren't they? Poetic.
How are you? Been a long time. I checked my blog after years. Fond memories.
@Aniket:
Yes.. beautiful and mysterious.
Btw, where have you been? My blog posts were lying there uncommented.. :)
Well, welcome back to the blog-world fellow blogger! :)
Not sure I'll resume blogging. Need some sort of motivation, I guess? And anyway, I've drifted a little. Not that I've stopped writing. But you know, 2 years ago I was well.. Younger. Much more easily influenced by ideas, you know?
I have grown up. Grown away from that overwhelming way I used to write in. Not that I'm not close to what I wrote- I love it. I'm just always in double minds whether to make a new blog or continue writing in the one all my teenage stories are in.
Both are always dead ends.. One too personal and too related to the past. The other too new, too fresh. Maybe I'll start writing sometime..
Just posted.
I guess the fact that you still write after all this time is the motivation that I needed.
No matter how old you grow, you should never go away from your passion. If writing makes you feel better, never stop writing.
It doesn’t matter how often or how much you write, or where you write, expressing your thoughts – fresh ideas or past stories is important.
Looking forward for a new piece on gothicconnection.
:)
Do you still write, @Aniket?
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