Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Himanshi Oct 2019
Forget the crimson lips and heart,
forget they made you pale
Just write about your aching being,
Forget the fairytale.

Paint not a picture of your dreams,
Envisaging sweet laughters
Face life and look beyond,
Beyond the happily ever afters.
Himanshi Oct 2018
Somewhere far along
In the fields of my fantasy
I buried my aching heart.
Liberated myself from
its undue desires
Felt freer by its depart.

Clouds of despair
Rained on me
As I dug deeper
Beside the redbud tree.
It bled and shed
And wrenched in pain
For the twisted love
That I had always known it to be.

My hands trembled when
I lay it to rest softly,
The pain was mellowed
As I felt the earth
yearn for it wistfully.

The murk enwreathed
The field of sorrows
As I stood there alone,
Beside my heart’s grave.

Swallowed my tears
As I delivered its eulogy
Wishing that one day,
you’d write its obituary.

I have no reason
To believe that love
Blooms like a flower or
that it’s always meant to be.
As I would live
The rest of my days
Knowing that
My heart died, before me.
Himanshi Jun 2015
Moody mornings
roughly plaited hair
still letting a few tresses
tickle my forehead
and touch my lips
only to make
my smile wider
These eyes see
more than what
the landscape holds
more than what is told
by the deceiving beings
of the deceiving earth.
It’s a beautiful lie
beneath the palpable skies
and the fathomable oceans.
So I’ll just lie
on this beach
in my blue slippers
and let the sand
fill the pores
of my flaxen skin
while the dolphin flipper.
It’s just a matter of time.
Himanshi Nov 2014
A salty concoction
Of  agony and sorrow
Rolls down her cheek
like fragrant dew drops
from the silken lamina
Feeding no one
but the undue desires
Of the wrenching heart.
Her sun-kissed skin
and honey-touched lips
now drench in the
brininess of her tears.
Counting seconds
by her slow gasps.
A breath, that was
only hers now.
Tears, that were
only hers now.
Himanshi Jul 2014
Awakened by the melody
of the chirping by the birdies
who beseech nothing more
but the fragrance the daffodils wore
around their silken petals yellow
and between their green sepals mellow.

Reminisce their time spent
under the magical snow bent
which ****** upon their existence vast
driving them to desert their casts.

Comes the harbinger of life, the spring
and they bloom with the soothing breeze
Each petal of the whorl curls
with stories of varying degrees.

Why though do they bend coyly
when asked about love?
Spring is Love , it's here today,
The Daffodils Shy away.
Wrote after very very long
Himanshi May 2014
More than half of the time you don't know what you're doing.
But you do it anyway.
Its as if an invisible rope is pulling you
towards something infinite
and you love the marks
that rope leaves on your body.
You like that sweet pain.
You are hesitant and
a lil resistant at first
and then, you let go.
It's like paragliding,
the adrenaline rush every look and every touch gives you.
Its as unbelievable as God,
  as unbelievable as Satan.
It's an endless sea of emotions,
You can swim, or you can drown.
Its a rough,  craggy, bumpy road
which bifurcates,
and you are blindfolded.
So choosing your path is not an option.
You go where your destiny takes you.
That becomes your destination.
But the best thing is,
it makes you happy,
everything about it.
It makes you realize
what you're capable of,
how much you can make someone feel special.
You know yourself better with each passing moment.
One can't ask for more, right?
Wrote this for a friend's book.
Next page