The perfect day

It was a spectacle. The collision of two brilliant flashes. Two flashes white with heat. It was perfect. And there were sparkles. Red, blue and green. There was violence in the collision. There was fury, there was urgency. And the tranquility created was breathtaking. And we laughed- a laughter so light and carefree; so clean- devoid of any cynicism or anguish. You said once, "A million stars shone in my dark cloud filled heart when you stood besides me." How subtle and light it is to know that there is no darkness after all. It is just the absence of light. And Behold! There is light. So magnificent- almost blinding.

My eyes laugh- it is so right and so true. How can it be, how could it be anything but this. We are one- we always will be. There are no more fears. Come laugh with me.

P.S It is an excerpt from a book I am writing.

Less is More

I have always had a strong desire to form deep bonds. But somewhere something went amiss. Either I lost the knack for it, becoming too transient in life or maybe they just shrugged me off too easily. The bonds are still there. Apparently deep and genuine. But they are so temporary. The kinds that are felt for a few minutes or for few hours once in a week or two. The kinds that do not latch on to you or where maybe you don't latch on to them.
What is it about this age. Or maybe this generation. When did we start running after quantity over quality in emotions and relations. Why is the unwavering, unflinching, devoted attention of one person day after day everyday not satisfactory anymore. Why do we run after the cheap thrills of a chase. The seemingly hollow security of being the focal point of attention.
And when you feel it, it feels like everything. Where words are not needed and a touch or a look is enough. Where the connection is so strong that you can feel it across a room. And then a week down the line, with silence on both ends, with no need to pursue that connection by either party, you wonder if it was in fact real. You wonder if maybe it was just the imagination of a desperate mind. The desperation to understand and be understood.
Why have we become so apt at the day to day mundane task of trying to live a normal life. Why has all this BS about "How to attract a man", "How to make a woman fall in love with you", "How to reignite the fire", "Does she actually love you", "Signs hes cheating on you", et al taken over our lives. Why have we stopped being ourselves. So afraid to lose that every step is calculated and re-calculated. And the games become a necessity. For love and happiness. Let us just be.

And to those few men and women in my life, I say-I did love you. For however brief a moment. It was real. It was heartfelt. I am sorry that I could not sustain it and I am sorry that I didn't try harder.

I hope, maybe you feel the same. Divided in love, let us atleast be together in our guilt.

P.S. this picture holds so true for me... I guess it holds true for many out there-

Red

I offer my heart to the lion.
He devours it in my palms-defiant.
With my red on his face,
conceited he walks away.
I shrug and saunter on- baptized,
towards my slow demise.
The irony of my life galore
-my existence ignored
but with a flick of his mane.
With my blood running through his veins.

The Chain

He reveled in the power he had on her. It gave him a high to know that she couldn't walk away. He definitely did have her on a short leash. But he forgot that a leash is nothing but a rope with a noose on both the ends. That secret was safe in the sad smiles she smiled sometimes. Almost as if smiling at a faraway memory that still hasn't come to be. The ones that made him feel vulnerable- even if just for a moment, even if he wouldn't admit it.
And then- he didn't know why he was walking around with the leash, the loose end dragging behind his feet. Leaving a trail in the dust- the only physical evidence of the scars he felt.

Rogue hearts

They say that perfumes linger. But she can't remember the way he smelled. Only the fleeting recollection that she liked smelling him when she nuzzled her face in his neck as he engulfed her in his arms. Some people are amazing huggers- she realized this only after being hugged by him. That is how she thought of it- hugged by him. Not hugging him. And the knowledge of all the other girls he hugged is suddenly undeniable. And she wonders if any of them carried his scent back with her. Maybe they had better olfactory senses. She is amused that she is experiencing jealousy- it is beguiling to observe it, like she is not the one personally involved in the whole affair. And she then remembers the way his lips brushed lightly against hers as they hugged goodbye. The knowledge safe between them- in the way they touched each other every time they met. Not even communicated through eyes. Too personal to be put in words or in the way they looked at each other. But in the way his hand rests on the small of her back for just a moment, in the way their cheeks brush against each other as they greet, the way they held hands while looking away from each other. The knowledge too sacred to be defiled by even a look of acknowledgment. So what happens when two innocent heart-breakers with their own hearts patched up and ready to be broken again cross paths and sparks fly?
After all she DID remember the way his lips felt. She was glad they were thin. She had never liked kissing the full kinds...