I am wearing a pink plaid skirt,
but I think it’s too short,
maybe my huge thighs are ruining it.

Oh my god, he is looking at me, but maybe not me, maybe he is looking at the ******* beside me, after all why would he look at me, the payjama wearing nerd.

People call me slim, I am not slim. It’s called skinny. Look, my bones are showing from every side of my body.

Oh my god, this top is so beautiful but I can’t wear it, it’s too shot and my tummy will be peaking out.

“NO”
Just two words-
APPRECIATE YOURSLEF

This fear is what makes you imperfect, not the way you look, or talk, or walk.

I laid myself bare
not just physically
but also
all the secrets
I treasured
and all the kisses I saved,
I gave them to you.
All the firsts,
I named them after you.
I stopped eating my favourite food
because you never liked it.
I never wore short skirts
or bikinis
or even shorts,
because you found them inappropriate.
And I never said a word
because from the beginning
of my life and my existence
I was taught to please and not be pleased.
I thought I ask you things
but later,
when you left me like a garbage bag
I realised
I always begged you.
But now this toxicity
I used to call a relationship
and presumed was love,
is gone.
So taking not just a tiny step
but a humongous lead towards life,
I am growing.
Shorts and skirts.
Bras and bikinis.
Tea to beer.
Temples to clubs.
Marriage ideas to one night stands.
The two year old me
was another girl
and I may look like her
but I am not her.
She was a *****
and I am the tigress.
She was just bred through life,
I am living it.
Tattoos and piercings
studded jeans
and black tees
early morning wakeup alarms
to early morning home returning ceremony.
The girl who used to care died the day you left,
and what dies, stays dead.
So this new version
Me 2.0
doesn’t give a ****.
She looks society in the eye
and you,
shoulder to shoulder
wearing a bikini,
hand in hand with a guy,
and give them the look,
the look of “no ***** given”
Because now I know
the innocence I used to carry
was just a baggage
Because now I understand
society depleted me,
and I did too
but now I have risen
like a phoenix from the ashes,
this time a better version of myself
because this one
give zero *****.

Like the petals
I am falling.
Not altogether
but piece by piece.
Not because of the wind
but because
you are plucking me out
one by one,
you’re breaking me
one by one,
you’re taking away my soul
one my one,
you’re destroying my essence
one my one,
you are transforming me
from a flower
to a ****.

I lay flowers on your feet
after the predicament.
This plight we wandered into
all by ourselves
showed us
what we truly are
and laid ashes all over
on our fake selves.
You, my arch enemy
are not so anymore,
cause in the moment of distress
and in the deep mess,
you found me
only you
and nobody else.
You looked at me
with a look of pity
and I knew I am miserable,
so I got up
and went on
knowing, I have to live
a better life
than the one I am living.
The raging war we had going
in our own little brains
is at it’s end.
Just one thing before that,
why did we hate each other after all ?
and if you truly give the answer
my ears want to hear
and my heart will accept
the war between us will be over.
With chocolates and flowers,
you will be welcomed in my life
instead of guns and bullets.
So one last time, dear enemy
This war is over, if you want it to be.

It felt nice, to swap the boxers with this sequinned black dress, with upper body lace, revealing the perfect amount of skin.
It felt nice, to swap the daily beer bottles with glasses of vine of older times.
It felt nice, to swap the bathroom slippers with black pumps which I last wore three tears ago, at my sisters’ wedding.
It felt nice, to look at all these new faces who pretend to care, but don’t.
It felt nice, to wear this mask separating myself from the woman I really am, a widower.
This white mask, attached to its’ sides are tiny feathers of black with a pearl at the end and it is covered with sequins all around, like it was meant for an archangel to wear.
Black lace dress, showing my cleavage,under which I wore a black garter and black bra, with black plain pumps, and this white mask.
Standing afar, at the other end of the ball room, this handsome stranger catches my eye.
He notices me and walks up to me, taking my gloved hand he asks me “Care to dance ?” and my feet give the answer my lips couldn’t formulate.
He keeps one hand on my *** and one on my tiny back, I lean into him and on the tunes of Bach, we sway.
Just as the clock hits twelve, my Cinderella time gets over, time to be the widow and remove the mask I so willingly wore, just for one escape.
Escape from being a widower to being a single lady at Masquerade ball.

Tangled and lost
in the hoop of
his own deranging thoughts
which crippled him from inside
also consisting of
those dark memories
and lonely moments
when no one was there
to tell him
not to give up,
to go on anyways.
Messy mind is
the worst kind
you can’t contemplate
for even a second
what is wrong
and what is right.
He had it,
all those thoughts
about him and about others
which scared him
but then one day
he got on the radar
and was founded by someone.
Luckily, that someone
also went through this roller coaster
called life at one point.
So he came
and discovered that this guy
needs to be separated
from his
coil of jumbled thoughts.
And slowly, with appropriate time
he cut the cord
which was the main reason
of the boy’s attachment
to his muddled up thoughts.
They used to sit at night,
cross-legged
on the floor,
surrounded with nothing,
but peace
and they did one thing,
few people do nowadays,
they talked.
He helped him,
he arranged his mind
like he had an OCD for
disfigured thoughts,
he helped him
getting back
by taking one step,
just one step,
he cut the cord.
Yes, he cut the cord.

you melted away
like the wax from a candle
because you were too afraid
and unwilling
to break my walls
and see behind them.
You got scared
just by one glimpse
of the inner me,
the dark me
and you ran away.
When I kissed you
you lips felt warm
and home-like,
they welcomes me
in your mouth
but you never did.
Your body could have been
the temple I worship in
and you could have been
the person who breaks
my jail bars and see the secret inside,
but you were ****-less,
you were cowardly
as to finding in me
a person you no longer
wish to see in you.
-anothergirlwithfantasies
— — — — — — — — — — — — — —
Some people have a bad side, and if someone doesn’t accept this, they need to. Because embracing yourself wholly will lead you to paths of righteousness and seriously, people need to stop being afraid of the dark, it’s as good as light, sometimes more.
— — — — — — — — — — — — — —