White hair.

Life flashes before my eyes, I can smell her hair that are now white. It had always been my definition of beauty. That scent.                                                                                       Over the years,it had become a part of me and yet I was never fulfilled. It still came from her, and I always lingered. The hunger still remained. I wish I could could take it with me. I can’t remember how many years we have been together, how many arguments we’ve had, the jewellery and clothes she owns but I do remember the first time she glanced at me, how she looked into my eyes with hers. When her curls spilled  themselves across her face and she took her hand to remove them.  Between her hair, through our eyes, our souls had caught on fire.

I lay in her lap, my life at her disposition, her toes touching my hair every now and then. I realised this is where I truly belonged. She was my goddess and I was here at her feet.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                              I was breathing my last breaths they exclaimed, don’t crowd him they said. I wanted to be there, at her feet. With the whole world in haziness and only her insight. Her, me, us and our memories. After all the phases, positions and places in our lives, I had found where I belonged. It took me my death bed to find that out. I wanted my last breaths to be taken away by her, her kisses had always made me breathless. Only because she was so passionate and so divine.

She asked me- “Shall I get up and lay you on the bed?”
Her white hair reflected the light from the tube and her wrinkled hands shivered as she said. I smirked and she smiled. we both knew the answer. A translucent layer of tears brimmed her eyes as she gleamed in sadness and happiness.
We both knew,
The night would come and a day anew
People would eventually scatter,
Go to their respective homes and chatter,
Come back to check on me in the morning,
There would be tears and a lot of mourning,
But we’ll be here smiling,
As our bodies will lay, side by side
Like the water with its tide.
In heaven we’ll meet as the world tells stories of our love; I’ll take her scent and she my touch.

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You might not know your name, but you know your story.

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It’s back! The energy, the magic. It’s not perfect but it’s there. I can feel my hands finally escaping their fears and itching to write again. It feels wonderful!

This feeling, when your phone is how it should be, switched off. You are how you should be.

Calm. Yet, bubbling with energy! Sleepless.

Like every cell of my body is jumping, smiling, craving. Craving to be heard. Not in a painful way but in a very joyful, crazy way.Crazy! Yes, that’s who we all are. Now I am again!My blood rushes and pumps itself as I write these words. I’m here. I’m home.In my room where the walls are white, the furniture shapes and molds to the choice of my colours. White, blue. Peace and serenity fill the air.I feel calmness in my breathe, in my body.  It feels good.Not to be struggling to breath, with the fear that someone might harm you, touch you.Physically, emotionally.It feel good to be this way to just simply listen to yourself. Calmly and patiently.There is no good that can be killed by the bad. It’ll come back. If it’ true it always does( A lot like love)

I’m back to tell myself,My worth.That despite circumstances, comments and perceptions;I’m beautiful and you- reading this are too.

You might not know your name; but  only you know your story, so embrace yourself, cry, fall and break but pick yourself up smile, laugh and join the pieces back again!

xox