The Blog is Dead. Or is it?

Surprise surprise.

This course has sucked the words out of me. I reach home so absolutely tired, moving fingers in coordination to the eyes on the keyboard too seems a herculean task.

There was once life

trapped between qwerty.

Every night she set life free,

through the words of her imagination.

Her thoughts were hers to choose,

they were like the wind

free-flowing.

Now, they’re just air

a necessity for life,

not for feeling alive.

 

 

Eyes.

He taught me how to read people’s eyes,

to look deep into their souls

to look beyond the surface of their smiles,

to reach in and see that levels existed

in people’s minds.

He taught me that thoughts and actions

were seldom the same.

What appears and what is perceived

are different; what a shame

that we don’t see this.

He said that neither words

nor actions reveal ; a man’s

silence shows strength when spurred.

He taught me well,

he taught me all.

He told me secrets of life that

 lay in the banalities of each day

He said answers lay within,

all we needed was to think; not sway.

He gave me thought.

He’s left the world now,

left me wiser and alone.

I smile when people see me

oblivious that my eyes are forlorn

filled with unshed tears.

For people don’t read people’s eyes

and if they did, they’d see

that truth seldom lies and seldom is

what people want you to believe.

If only people read eyes.

 

 

 

Words.

love,sadness-c2a02c0116565a70893dbcdaca414093_h

Giving up.

Is it an option when you are irrevocably in love?

Can anyone stop caring?

Lying on the bed, morbid thoughts filled her throbbing head. The neural forecast of her brain read migraine expected.

She had been happy. Happiness for her was like the rising and ebbing of tides;  happiness was never constant. She searched Google for numerous advice articles.

Am I at fault?

Is it me?

What IS it?

She was someone for whom the little things mattered.  She believed in creating romance; not waiting for it to happen. She was no Sleeping Beauty, she was Belle. Unfortunately for her, The Beast was not a metaphor for looks but nature. Writing was her only therapy. Pen, paper and privacy; her potion for defeated spirits and a broken heart.

Time stands still for me

when you fail to understand

that words hurt me

like the vicious slash of a dagger

they cut me through and through

they torture me at night

while once spoken 

they are forgotten by you.

Words make me happy

like a balm to the wounds

I believe them

maybe I am naive?

Words leave an impact

the way spoken

more than what.

Words wound, words heal.

For me they flow in writing

while you can speak them aloud.

Time stands still for me

as the hurt consumes me through and through

words one sided are cruel

allow me to speak to you too.

 

 

Image sourced from here.

 

Of Love and Goodbye

Goodbye

 

She had given him her all,

her very being, her soul.

He did not think so.

“I beg to differ”, he politely said.

The confusion in her mind,

the slowing down of her heart,

the tears that pooled in her eyes,

made it clear to every passerby

that his words had left her wounded.

 

 

The goodbye in his eyes

and the finality of his tone

left her bewildered, alone.

Doubts embraced her mind

like shadows in the dark,

questions she had locked within

came out; bursting forth

from the deepest recesses

because the door had failed to latch.

 

 

Time, they said, would heal her.

She wished it was true,

hiding behind the facade of normalcy

unseen, she’d dance like a maniac

letting her mind, her body loose.

Eyes filled with desperate hope,

the doors to her heart forever open,

she still awaited his return.

The news that he was long dead, something she’d never learn.

Image Credit- http://friendsfromfar.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/07/leaving.jpg

The End Had Begun.

Part 1.
She had trusted , she had been betrayed
a hasty prayer to the heavens she said
a plea to be given a painless death.
She knew her end was near
she knew it deep in her bones
drenched in sweat she ran
she ran those last few miles alone.
No escaping , no looking back
all scheming and planning gone waste
she wanted to but couldn’t
she could not slow down her pace.
Her heart pumped with a frantic beat
her legs threatened to collapse
with her lungs on fire she ran,
no escaping, no looking back.
She ran like she had never before
she had to , she had to run
death awaited her with open arms,
her ending had begun.

Part 2.
He sat in pleasant anticipation,
like a lion about to pounce its prey
a wicked smile, an ugly frown
he knew this was to be her doomsday.
She had escaped , eluded him
like quicksilver in his hands
but today the hide and seek was over.
This was to be her last day spent alive,
he waited for her patiently..
contemplating how she should die.
The gun would be a tad too quick,
while the knife was too messy an affair.
A poisoned glass of champagne maybe..
or was it to be the electric chair?
A thousand choices , a single death
which one should he choose?
Or should he like a gentleman ask
” Lady, the knife, the poison or noose?”

Part 3.
She came to a halt at the front door
her instincts warned that he waited within
She clenched her hands into two tight fists..
felt beads of sweat slide down her spine.
She took a step forward while her mind dragged her back
back to those hauntingly happy days,
she recalled those unburdened joyous memories..
that now seemed to her eons away.
She shifted her weight, the floorboard creaked
the slight sound brought her crashing to reality.

***
He heard the sound.
The wooden floor had always creaked
it had to be her, he knew it.
She would surely come to this room.
the room where it had all started.
There hung a smiling portrait of them together,
his mind dwelled upon those happy times
He listened to the opening of the door downstairs
memories derisively forgotten, he waited.

***

The door opened noiselessly or so she thought
surely he wouldn’t have heard it open?
She needed to go to the room
see it for one last time
She suppressed the tide of emotions
that threatened to drown her.
She forced her fatigued legs
to climb up the stairs
furiously hoping he wasn’t there.

***
How long would she take to reach the room?
His patience was fast turning to rage.
She had come this far, hadn’t she?
Now couldn’t she move a little faster?
He was growing impatient and doubtful
had she decided to give up? To scarper?
He made a move to rise but then decided not to,
a few minutes,he reasoned would do no harm
She needed time he knew, facing death wasn’t easy
after all it came only once, he could wait.
***

She opened the door of the room
her eyes seeking him in the pale moonlight
She forced herself to stand straight, to die dignified
He saw her enter, the way she stood
he couldn’t see her fear, he could feel it.
The air around them crackled..
Was it love? Was it hatred? Was it terror?
They both stood staring, not at each other
but at their portrait that adorned the wall.
For her time seemed to stand still but the seconds ticked by,
the silence was oppressing her, she could not find her voice
Finally with an effort she asked” How will I die?”
His lips curled in a menacing smile” Its yours to choose..
you have your options open, the knife, the poison or noose.”

 

Image

 

Image credit –http://devillolita666.deviantart.com/art/306-Pistol-Poison-Noose-and-Knife-346663742