A Word After Goodbye To You

A strike through the heart,
what a better place to start?
or a plunge in the chest,
and that’ll take care of the rest,
A stab in the back, hit on the skull
There were a hundred ways
To see me die but did you have,
to break my heart and say goodbye?

I barely had enough of your supple skin
When our hands entwined,
your head on my chest, our hearts akin,
your laughter dancing through the room,
melodious, ringing, one of a kind,
would chase out the sadness and the gloom.

How often would I complain
about the deadlines, your demands (sometimes),
and if I could ever pass through those moments again,
I would kiss you over and again.
I would buy you whatever you need,
Give you my time, get you books to read,
Or maybe write a story, ours, like you wanted,
And I’ll read it, because by you, I’m enchanted.

How about an idea, we go through the photographs,
Maybe you’ll remember together, how perfect we were,
And I’ll see where it all went wrong,
And mend my ways, and try to change,
For right now, we are miles apart,
And I’d like to change that, before we become strange.

Every step I take, echoes in the cosmos,
a cosmos, empty now that you have left.
Have I never told you, about how hollow,
you’ve left me, an empty, emotionless body, cover?
Yet, even if it supposedly took a gazillion pieces of my heart,
I was, still am, and will forever be your lover.

You Are Enough.

 

brooke

You called me ugly. But I beg to differ.

I feel beautiful.

I feel just like drunken sky, bathed in hues of yellow and blue and white, spread all over your heads, a tantalizing display of colours never seen and designs never imagined.

You called me shallow.

But I feel layered.

I feel like taste of your favourite dessert: chocolate truffle, the slightly bitter taste of chocolate oozing down to a softer, sweeter and mellower palate, both sweet and bitter serenading a taste so perfectly wonderful as if you’ve just had a culinary orgasm.

You called me confused.

But I feel precise.

I feel like the quiet and composed calm that you experience before the storm hits, that one moment of tranquillity and peace that you might never experience again, the one moment of perfect clarity when I know that no matter what the stakes, you’ll never be more content with life.

You called me monotonous.

But I feel unique.

I feel like the swaying leaf in the last nocturnal hour, the moon light shining just for me, and a thousand others, but only just for me, engulfing me in an aura so holy that my spirit is pure, its divine.

The world called me replaceable.

But honey, that’s what I’m not. I’m one of a kind, and that is enough.

20k!!

OH MY GOD. TWPM HAS 20k HITS! THIS IS AMAZING!

*whew whew*

What started as a teenager putting her work together has now ever 20k hits. I swear, I’m not kidding but I almost cried. So much work put in, all of myself, my being was put in here and now over 20 thousand people have read it. This is probably the most amazing feeling anyone can have, making something from the scratch, watching it grow (and helping you grow) and seeing it being appreciated.

This blog is probably the only journal I’ve ever maintained and so much has gone into it; every time I felt something- anger, rage, jealousy, hatred, love, kindness, compassion, anything at all, I wrote and put it all here. My intention was never to gather followers or fame or appreciation but seeing what you’ve created get such a response, it’s overwhelming. There is a part of myself here and I’ve nurtured it for the past four and a half years and now, this is a landmark and the outburst of emotions is nothing but pure gratitude for you all, all those who’ve read about me, my works, sometimes about my personal struggles, my failures, my successes. You’ve watched me grow and have appreciated a side of me that is most vulnerable and I can’t be more thankful to have people like you do that. I’m the best feeling in the world.

I don’t know if I’m making sense because I’m much to excited to even type properly (thank god for autocorrect), but this is one of the best days of my life. Thank you all for being there and making this the best day of my life and for your everlasting support. You can never ever imagine how much I appreciate it.

Lots of love,

Akanksha

“For Humans”

death-painting

There was once an old lady,
who had lived all and was waiting
for her death, with a troubled breath,
As she stood by the door,
every day more devastating.
She’d lost her husband to the land,
and there was no other name bearer,
who could live to her legacy and
be told in the bards, as the son of one
to whom death was the most dear.

Each day with a bated breath, she
looked forward to her final visitor,
But he never came and she always cried
because she really thought
it really was her time.
Her neighbors, her crazy kept at a distance
but that didn’t stop them to whisper,
“Ah that old, mental, moronic lady
Who is she waiting for to take her crazy,
a demonic mister?”

But somehow, things changed, as mostly she,
she realized they weren’t waiting for her
As much as she was for death,
And things changed, and soon the neighbor
kids played until they were panting with breath.
She made cookies and called for tea,
all the fancy dressed, beautiful ladies,
And soon her garden was bright and gay
And loneliness, she barred and mostly
was like a bright day in May.

But one day, when all the ladies
Came to her house for their tea
and the daily gossip they all shared,
they found the door locked, and her house
strangely, dead, and lifeless, and bare.
Worried, they rushed and somehow
broke the door and they entered,
upon a lifeless host, they cried,
The old widow, lying on the floor,
with a smile on her face, had died.

They looked around and some rushed 
out to call for help, but one, 
spotted a piece of paper, on the bed.
They shrieked, and some stood stunned
and then, cried in horror; 
it was from Death.

“She was a poor sod who thought, 
she’d lived life to the fullest,
Oh, what a fool humans are, 
They don’t know what is the best.
Waiting for me instead when you
should be making memories,
living life with love and people who are dear.
So that once you die, there are no fears
of having not taken the chance,
the chance to be alive after death,
to be alive in others’ memories and hearts.
And that’s why I kept her waiting,
for she didn’t know what’s right,
But fear not, my ladies,
She came to me with a smile,
and looked down upon all of you,
and waved a goodbye;
she sprinkled on some pixie dust,
And rests now, with her husband,
very happy and content, high above.”