I woke up barred in chains…
Dear Beth, it was the most frightening encounter. The room wasn’t well lit but the softness of the pillow lightly brushed against my cheek as I lay on my side as a nice little treat. My night dress lazily dropped down my shoulders exposing one of my bosom and my thighs, white as a sheet of snow that laid bare and wet in a chasm. The room smelled of roses and scent but the chains cutting in my wrists made me more aware of the raw precipitation forming on the back of my neck. I squinted my eyes when rough-like fingers grabbed the small of my waist. A low gasp left my mouth and I was more wakeful than ever again. Heavy breaths burned my ears and my heart raced like a rabbit. ” My darling ” he whispered and nibbled on my neck blotting the skin red. I moaned so low under his watchful gaze, his stubble tickling my breath, I closed my eyes and laid on my back for him to mount me strong. A gush of wind blew through me as I heard footsteps all over the place hourlong , ” My darling ” he whispered and tightened the chains and slowly he bolted the door. Ah, yes I saw his lip twitch, his shoulders so broad and gay, he danced a little on his funny foot and slowly he smiled away.

Photo Credits : Pexels. Com.

Female guide to male communication.

I understand the authenticity of love has lost its taste in the air.

The subtle affairs are now an everyday chore.

I stand so vague and ponder.

Why would anyone even call it love,

When all people want from you is-

Well, no one can decipher what they want.
It’s that complicated.!

I smile from the huge glass frame that glorifies my presence.
I’m expected to present all pretty and ‘display’

While boys go over my price tag,

Some ponder along the aisle,
”Is she worth it, I might find better.”

While the others are confident enough to touch me and explore.

Some know the price won’t creep out of their pockets so they work hard to attain me, doll.

Fools all of them.

No one wonders what I want, no one wonders what I feel,

they just want to grasp and play and then throw me away.
Because that’s what they all do.

They play.
They play till they are bored or maybe they find something different, not better.

It’s wondrous how once, I was everything to them and the next, they drop me in tattering clothes and move on along the road to some new.

So, I make a quick prayer to the Lords to keep me safe, to not let anyone touch me.
To not let anyone carry me home.

To keep me hidden behind the glass frame and to keep me forever new.

the white mannequin.

Picture Credits : pexels.

The asymmetric mix.

The light gamboled off her face

Reflecting shades of innocence

She smiled a subtle smile of power

The rest lay in bliss

Her eyes spoke of bemusement

Her lips two petals of abyss

Hues of brown freckles on her skin

Oh!What a perfect asymmetric admix.

Photo credits- @potrait.m

Am I crazy or them?

Why can’t I just simply die,
Instead of holding on to this pain.

I should just simply go to hell
Maybe I do deserve it.
Why can’t people appreciate and hold on to the love I provide.
Is it not enough ?
Is it too much?
I can’t understand what keeps them so strung that they can’t seem to return a simple feeling.
A feeling that can bring smiles to my floating heart.
A feeling that I am ready to hold on to for the rest of my life.
Maybe my life means nothing to them.
Maybe I mean nothing to them.
And all I hear is lies , more lies and absolute silence.
Is it too much to ask ?

Is our world so shallow that they can’t seem to reciprocate one simple feeling.
This subtle feeling, love.

I guess we all are too absurd.

Alone or not?

She sits quiet.

She has been that way for quiet some time now.

Her tension builds that she chews the insides of her cheek.

The wind blows in her hair and creeps up the small pores on her flawless skin.

She tries to not think of him.

She had been able to distract herself the whole morning gleefully running around with her friends and yet she found herself sitting all alone with pods plugged into her ears staring at nothing In this beautiful evening.

She couldn’t understand what bothered her more, the fact that he was not there with her or he made up excuses to not talk to her.

I mean, what difference would a call make anyway.

Everything to her.


Nothing to him.

Yet, she smiled ,for this was not the first time.

Obviously the poor creature had to throw it all behind her and move forward, smiling, even though she was furious.

She was more that furious.

But she was used to this.

Or not.

Photo credits- pexels.

The silly swain!

The river hushed the notorious scree

The sky hushed the wind

A girl in red, with her soft mesmerising features

was crying softly, sitting near the river bed

There was something about her voice

that made the river to stop and listen

The sky to numb it’s wait

The lush green grass glistened

Her tears were the tiny droplets of love,

falling in his wake

She fiddled with the rim of her dress

So empty and opaque

His promises sounded melodious

Yet, she was dancing with pain

All she did was love him

Hah! She was just a silly swain.

Photo credits- pixels.

Was it him?

Uncertainty pulled her Down

The brightness he brought along

Was now fading around

They laugh at her

He befooled her with his facade

She’s bruised all over

Keeps keeling over and over again

How naive she stood

Somebody help her up for God’s sake!

She hates herself for loving him

No, none was his mistake.

Photo- pixels

My rain.

It was a pleasant day

She felt pleasant at heart

Red lipstick smothered her lips

Oh! What an art

For he, she embraced her wounds

Her sadness and her thoughts

She closed her eyes, fraught misery

Each day she fought

The teeming water did little

It only inflicted pain

For he had always forenamed

That, “You are my rain”.

Picture credits-

Enticing facade


I fell in love with his voice 

I fell in love with his smile 

It was difficult to walk alone 

When I knew he was walking behind 

I compromised with his flaws 

I closed eyes 

I knew I was hurting each day 

But it was enticing 

It was burning me alive 

He held his facade 

On his plastic love 

His words entrapped me

Below and above 

A bag of wind was he 

Had a charming, delightful side 

But slowly and steadily 

I was losing my mind.
Picture credits-pexels 


Sometimes I have had enough.

Sometimes we all have had enough.

I have had a control over my life since the day I was born.

Not by myself, but by someone or the other.

‘CONTROL’ such an overrated and a fearful word.

It either brightens your life or destroys.

Maybe having a controlling life Is good,

Maybe being a control freak is what you need,

You have a path decided

You have your way mapped out.

But what if it’s mapped and decorated by someone else.

What if the chains of your life are held by someone else and you can’t even breathe without them knowing

Yes, exactly that bad!

This control

It reaches out to your soul and threatens to capture it.

Being controlling may work for some

But what about to others who are stuck within themselves,

Unable to break free.

What then,

What’s the war against, then?”!

Picture Credits –