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.

And suddenly
I could see all the
poison we had
in our mad love.
So the power I had
to decide
was yielded like a sword
cause I got to know
that not all problems
can be solved,
once it got corrupted,
it couldn’t have been
refreshed into melodies.
So I got on,
all the stuff was out,
your hearts and flowers
were thrown out from the door
and you were too,
from my life.

Some kid being beaten up
by his mother
on the side of the road
is not acceptable to my eyes.

A wife being tortured
by her loving husband
at the place she calls “home”
is not acceptable to my eyes.

A mother’s eyes welling up with tears
on listening **** from her kids
after all her sacrifices
is not acceptable to my eyes.

A girl being rapes
by a bunch of guys
full of ego and devoid of chivalry
is not acceptable to my eyes.

A kid mending tables
cleaning up the mess
instead of going to school
is not acceptable to my eyes.

All this stuff, and many more
sears through my heart
and burns a hole full of void
named “Bad Stuff my eyes can’t tolerate”

Abusing my best friend
because she slept with my ex-boyfriend
knowing how much he meant to me
is not acceptable to my mouth.

Disrespecting my mother
just because she didn’t prepare my meals on time
and keeps fussing over small things
is not acceptable to my mouth.

Hating some girl
and calling her ****
just because she refused to sleep with me
is not acceptable to my mouth.

Calling a friend
and ******* about another friend
after all those memories and moments
is not acceptable to my mouth.

Saying “i hate you”
to the person I called my world
after all the promises of “always and forever”
is not acceptable to my mouth.

All this stuff, and many more
sears through my heart
and burns a hole full of void
named “Bad Stuff my mouth can’t tolerate”

All the cuss words
thrown at a *******
thinking her job is beneath others
is not acceptable to my ears.

A fight between family members
aiming at stuff
which happened a long time back
is not acceptable to my ears.

Brawls and abuses
between a group of friends
who used “best friends forever” as their tagline
is not acceptable to my ears.

Two love birds breaking up
over stuff which could have been avoided
and saying things which breaks other ones heart
is not acceptable to my ears.

A human being
degrading his self worth
and calling himself, low being
is not acceptable to my ears.

All this stuff, and many more
sears through my heart
and burns a hole full of void
named “Bad stuff my ears can’t tolerate”

I found him standing on the side road
leaning against his
red Mustang 1946
with silver rimmed wheels
and black leather seat covers.
His eyes draped with
the black shades
and his hair,
spiked like a dude’s
but also, coiffured
like a gentlemans’.
His maroon polo neck,
making a perfect match
with his grey chinos,
underneath which he wore
black sneakers
with a watch in his hands.
Did I mention the veins on his hand !
I looked at him and caught him winking.
With a new gained confidence,
I walked up to him and touched his bulging manhood.
In a flash of a second,
he grabbed me and
laid me on the hood of his car.
And just when
he was about to kiss me on my ****,
I stopped him,
with a new found courage,
I stripped him of his chinos right there,
and held his ******* in my fist.
And my mouth gave him
the best *******.
Up down, rubbing my hands all over him,
spitting on the right times,
he came for me, grabbing my hair.
He put his hands on me
and came onto me.
I said “you taste like heaven’s personal brand of maple syrup”
and he gave me the most wittiest smile ever,
and whispered his phone number in my ear which is still etched on my mind.
I turned and he grabbed me, because that wasn’t the end.
He laid me on the bonnet again
and kissed me on the **** so hard that I still get wet, just thinking of it.
The way his tongue rolled around my *******, touching all the right places and how his fingers found my spot just on time, when I was about to come, and his touch triggered something, which I never knew existed in me before.
I came hard, on his mouth, and then he whispered in my ear, “you taste like heaven’s *** angel”
And after it was over, he went his way, I went mine,
both with a memory of the best ******* ever.

Chemistry between people is the strangest science of all. -BRIDGETT DEVOUE

The guy in my college,his eyes were brown, like mine.
But his mind was shallow, unlike mine.

The school crush’s habits matched
with my daily tasks, but during chemistry,
he broke my flask, so I broke his heart.

My third boyfriend’s disinterest in partying
was too much for this girl interested in one-night flings.

The last one tried all poses
guns and bullets, but never hearts and roses.

The recent one, is soft as a cloud
In the blankets of innocence, he shrouds.
He writes, like I do.
He reads, like I do.
He loves, like I do.
But he hates, which I don’t do.
Still I fell, in the abyss.
Maybe, sometimes
people are not to be analysed
or judged.
Maybe, sometimes
compatibility is to be
thrown in the waste bin.
Because once the hearts connect, logic fails.

"his twinkling emerald eyes, meet mine"

And when I turn back
the first thing I see
were his eyes
eyes shining like stars
his emerald eyes
which looked straight at me
with a force
I’ve never before felt.
And in that moment,
I knew
he was my chosen one.

Word of the day- collywobbles
Meaning- butterflies in stomach

The first time I talked to him
Not through texting,
where your emotions
are to be deduced
by the emojis you use.
Not through Facetime,
where your pain
and happiness,
all hides beneath the fake smile
you wear just for them.
But when
I met him in real,
after one whole year
of texting, video calls and letters.
Our long distance’s sun finally rose.
And when we sat together,
our shoulders touching,
heartbeats matching
and the excitement of it all
hanging mid air,
that’s when I realised
all these jitters I felt
for the past one year
was nothing but the butterflies
tickling me in my stomach
and making me blush.
Because when I met him
I discovered
I could be anybody with him
there were no bounds
no formalities exchanged
no strangeness
no awkwardness,
I was me and somebody else too,
at the same time
and it was exciting and challenging.
And somewhere
we didn’t realise
that
my butterflies and his butterflies
were sitting in a garden full of roses and lilies and orchids and what not
and partying hard
on being cupids for once in their lives.

blue eyes
green hair
pink shoes
red pants
orange shirt
white tie
He was not what you would call simple.
He in his way was colours all around.
©anothergirlwithfantasies

your path was different than mine
our roads were never meant to collide.
but you stepped up
and joined me.
that’s when I knew
a story is brewing
and
a cupid is smiling.

©anothergirlwithfantasies

Word of the day - Datsuzoku
Meaning - an escape from your everyday routine
_________
Waking up at five
to stay fit
and look young
at an age of thirty one.
Taking a bath
just to wear the same uniform
again, which I wore
yesterday too.
That blue striped t-shirt
and black pants
with a black tie
which is just like
a noose around my neck.
Eggs and bread and milk,
no variation
even when it comes to food.
Exactly at 8:15
my feet are outside
my apartment
and out on the road.
A five minute walk
to the subway
and the same routine there too,
reading newspaper
for the first fourteen stations
and for the next two,
just sit idly.
Working from
nine to five
sitting tightly in a cubicle
with just half hour break
broke something inside me.
I wanted many things in life,
success, money, fame, love
etc etc.
But when I found
that I still have a choice
and a super wish,
I didn’t chose any of this,
I chose one escape from reality.
Just one day
of not waking up at five,
working out, eating boring breakfast,
commuting like a 60 year old.
For one day
I wanted to be twenty one again.
For one day
I wanted to live like before.
For one day,
just one day
I wanted to taste freedom.

I am not to be remarked
as a lonely woman,
‘cause you may not know
or I may not seem so,
but I am
a big bad wolf.
Don’t you dare stare at my *******,
even if you are
desperate enough,
just remember,
that these little beasts
are looking right back at you.
Don’t you dare notice my curves,
even if you do
settle upon the extra weight
I carry,
be manly enough, to not judge me.
Don’t you dare look at my skirt length,
even if you are shameless enough to do that,
just remember
the shorter it goes,
your brain is shrinking to the same size too.
Don’t you dare assume that my smile means “**** me”
‘cause in the politest way I can say,
it means
“*******”

I am beginning to think
that I was meant
to lose myself
in your love.
It took me days
to crack you open
and let your darkness
engulf me.
It took me hours
to reach your bottom
kissing all the scars
you have all around.
It took me a heartbeat
to know that
I was meant to
be your *** slave.
At one point
you were like
the sugar cubes
I put in my tea.
And another second
you were this controlling man
handcuffing me
to his bedpost.
In a sweet way
you loved me hard,
and in a rough position
you touched me gently.
I found you
lost in between
my legs, as if
worshipping me.
You loved me like
I was the art you like
the words you read
the music you listen to
the God you pray to.
The secrets you never told me
your wrote them on my body
with your rugged hands
and your wet mouth.
It was bliss
all the ******* we did
and the love that blossomed
a dream turned into reality.

Word of the day - ECCEDENTESIAST
Meaning - someone who only pretends to smile
________
It’s just my lips forming a shape
Like pout, duck face
It’s just smile.
No deep meaning behind it
No witty reason
and no muse.
It’s just a crease
on my face
to show
that I am happy.
It’s a mask
I put on
when
I am surrounded
by smiling and happy
human beings.
It’s all a pretend.
This smile,
which you all think is pretty
is just a fake one.
Behind it,
lies the real me,
the one who stare up at the sky
not to look at the blinking stars,
but to admire
the blackness of the sky.
It’s all a facade.
Not only looks can be deceptive
smiles can be too.
The secrets I hide
the cries I have subdued
the tears I have controlled
the shrieks I have kept inside me
all are hidden
behind this smile.
And only one person
can see behind it,
only one,
you, my dear !
You are the one being
who saw straight through it
and said,
“That sadness behind your smile matches mine”
and then I smiled my real smile.

No I don’t know how to cook
Also I don’t know how to stay in limits
I am a loose canon,
can’t be packed in a box,
and stored away.
I can’t be held back
by your disgusting misconceptions
about the way I am.
Short skirts or waist high jeans
Just a bra or a tshirt,
it’s all my choice
I don’t see one reason,
why should I water your thoughts.

Yes I cry, and yes I am a man.
“You bended over like a *****, man”
Thanks, but your opioid is like a
wrapper of a gum I eat,
it just doesn’t matter.
Yes I wear eyeliner sometimes,
no that doesn’t give ****.
I still sometimes sleep in my mother’s lap,
that doesn’t mean
my manhood is decreasing.

A woman can punch you in the face,
and still be a woman.
A man can cry infront of you lot,
and still be a man.

Equality is not just expected in the aspects of job, career and stuff like that.
Things like what they wear, how they behave also matter.
“Behave, it’s expected of you.”
“Be a man”
These are just silly words used by generations of mind ******* for time pass.
Equality between a woman and a man is needed in society.

“Maybe you are just a beautiful fantasy.
Kiss me before you evaporate
and disappear forever.”

He tilted my chin. Hot tingles shot
through my body, as his tongue probed
my mouth.

He tangled his hands in my already
messy hair, and we twisted into
our fiery kisses.

©anothergirlwithfantasies

Word of the day - FILIPENDULOUS
Meaning - hanging by a thread

Just one blow
and I will break.
Just one swish of wind
and I will be carried away
to a faraway land.
Just one push
and I will fall.
There is only
one small thread
between me and life
and it’s been years
since I am holding it,
and it’s getting weak.
Anytime I see someone
with scissors or razors or knives
I have two thoughts.
One, I get scared
what if they knowingly
or mistakenly cut away my thread
and Second,
I deliberately invite them
to do the honours
of releasing me
from this world.
If I trip, I stand up again
because I still have
one last hope.
If I stumble, I gain my composure
because I still have
one last chance.
If I fall, I do get up
because I still
want to live again.
But somedays,
when I trip or fall or stumble
I don’t get up, I just lie there
protecting my thread
which is keeping me alive.
Because somedays
I want to live.

She will grow
not on her own,
but from my own roots.
The things I didn’t know
will be understood to her.
I didn’t have the guidebook
but she will have the whole guide.
She will emerge
as a new person
'cause now she has me,
The Guide.
Her efforts will be recognised,
and her heart will be whole again.
In the past,
she was lost,
but this time
I am keeping her with me.
In my arms,
under the shed of my protection.
She will be found,
not by just anyone,
but by me.
She will be cherished,
and swollen with love.
She will be wrapped
in the blanket of my care
and my teachings,
the sister from another mother,
will grown from my roots.

"i was ****** on satin sheets"

She was a ******* storm
in the bed.
The girl who wore nerdy glasses
and plaid skirts
****** me rough
on the black satin sheets.
She was like a dream
that night,
a dream that I have been
thinking about
since that exotic
lip-wetting chocolaty night.
No woman ever
had the pleasure
of bringing me to my knees,
she did, that too
from afar.
In a world of
expensive cars and motor bikes,
she was a cycle,
preferred by few,
like me.
She didn’t just
grabbed my hair,
she grabbed my heart
in her little fist.
But in the end
she managed to do
what none could,
penetrate the wall
separating me and myself.

Word of the day- GEZZELIG
Meaning- togetherness after a long separation
__________

It was a trick of time
when after all these years
I met you,
everything was as I left.
It was a trick of light
when I saw you,
you looked like a goddess
wrapped in silk.
It was a trick of hope
when I left,
I knew
there will be no “us”
to look forward to.
It was a trick of love
when I saw you that day
after four years
all the memories
and the rush
came flowing back.
Bones went shaky
Knees bent
Eyes locked
Mouth parted
kind of love.
When I looked at you
and laughed at your face
and left you at the altar,
I also left behind the hope
of getting back together.
But that day
on the side market in Cleveland
where we bumped into each other,
along us was that lost hope.
It was still intact,
it only needed me to come forward
and swipe it away,
so that’s what I did.
And, time was tricking us again
because it played our song
right at that moment
in that small cafe where we sat
and ate pancakes,
that song blared into our ears.
And we found bliss in this reunion.

Have you ever eaten a chocolate dipped in a tub of spices !
It tastes sweet at first, but then you realise it’s just not what you thought it was. It burned and it hurt.
It bruised my heart.
That’s how I felt when my boyfriend ****** me thrice and not once did it happen with my permission.
And we have been going out for one year and four months.
I never realised those signs, the forced kissing, the changing of topics to always a *** conversation.
Him always trying to touch me.
But that day, he lost his patience which was saving me till now.
I kicked at his *****.
I kicked his arms away.
But he was too strong.
His hold on me was not letting me even move myself. Kicking took too much.
And the irony was, his body used to be my temple.
When he used to take me in his hold, I used to squeak from the excitement of it all.
I used to wet my lips on seeing his bulging muscles.
But now, his arms around me, holding me hostage, feels like a suffocating experience.
I wanted to get away from him, but I was numb.
I was frozen all away, not with fear, but for feeling nothing.
After a few minutes of kicking, all I feel is the emptiness.
His breaths on my neck.
The stench of his sweat disturbs me, yet I am silent.
And after he ***** me, he looks at me like an animal looking at his food and says, “I’ll be back.”
Those three words, he uttered were the scariest of all.
The thought of him ******* me over was disgusting, but the thought of him coming back and ******* me again scared me out of my wits.
So, like every other harassed woman, I am running away, from him, from truth.
Cause after all this, I have not just lost faith, or myself, but I have lost hope, the one thing, which would have kept me running. ©anothergirlwithfantasies

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.

Word of the day - HEIMAT
Meaning - a place that you can call your home
________

What if I tell you
in your deep layers of skin
I found a place
I call my home.
Your touch
soothed me as
nothing could ever do.
People are stable
they can be turned into your homes.
And a home with a heartbeat
that’s just
another blessing to have.
People are careful
so your home is always safe.
But in lives, always come a time
when you have to go
leaving your home away.
And now when it’s a person,
with whom you find that comfort,
that peace, that coziness
which can only be found in a home,
you don’t want to let go
because you’re homesick.
His kisses, his hugs, his loving nature
all that
made you call him your home
and now
when it’s time to call someone else your home,
you are not ready.
He became your place.
He became the place you went to
when you needed space.
He became your home.

Word of the day - IRIDESCENT
Meaning - producing a display of rainbow like colours
________
Under the violet sky
I said goodbye
to her long silky hair
and her slender curves.
Her indigo dress
fitted perfectly
on her tiny waist
and appropriate hips.
The blue heels
with sequins on top
made her long legs
look oddly beautiful.
Beside us stood
a green tree,
under its shade
we kissed for the first time.
Her yellow bracelet
gifted to her
by her deceased father
hanging around her wrist.
The orange ice lolly
she is holding
and ******* on
brings memories of our first date.
The red lipstick
she is wearing like a queen
makes me want to
take her right there.
She was bleeding colours
all of them
at once.
To top it all,
her rainbow hair
were shining brighter
in the dark times.
Blackness was looming
all around me
but one look at her
and around,
and seeing what I was missing on
I decided
not to say goodbye.
I decided to give
the rainbow around me a chance.
I decided for once
to wear the colours
I never wore.

Word of the day - JACTANCY
Meaning - bragging

Praising my slender body
in front of his friends
Talking about my long tanned legs
to his siblings
Boasting about my cooking skills
to his parents
Speaking of our compatibility in bed
in front of his exes
He was constantly bragging
about me
to others
rather than me.
He didn’t show me off,
nope.
He always bragged
how this hot piece of ***
is to call.
To me, he said nothing,
no sweet whispers
no chocolates
no flowers
no praises.
I was just a gateway for him.
I was just some girl
he could **** whenever he want.
I was just some girl
he could call his girlfriend.
And one day
I put my foot down
and dragged him and his brags
out of my pretty decent life.

Word of the day- KALON
Meaning- beauty that is more than skin-deep

Poetry to me was not the words
written on a piece of paper
by myself
in the hour of need.
Poetry to me was not
the pleasure I got
in seeing her smile
so brightly, it made me wonder.
Poetry to me was not
when she held my hand
in hers
and whispered “it will be okay”
Poetry to me was not
her eyes, always filled with
a depth I lose myself in,
everytime I look in them.
Poetry to me was not
the way she talked,
because when she did
sparkles came.
Poetry to me,
was her kindness,
when I saw her helping
everyone around her.
Poetry to me,
was her tears
which emerged
on small incidents.
Poetry to me,
was the long nights shared between us
because at that moment
she was real.
Poetry to me,
was her opening her hear
and letting me see
all those dark memories.
Poetry to me,
was her confidence
in herself
even after failing for so many years.
Poetry to me,
was she on the whole
because she was a bird
I could never cage.
Poetry to me,
was she on the whole
because she was a firework
once it emerged, the most peaceful thing to look at.

Word of the day - LATIBULE
Meaning - a hiding place
_______
Whenever the voices get loud
Whenever the people get too near
Whenever my heart starts beating it’s own rhythm
Whenever the sky changes colour
Whenever I see a problem standing on the corner
I run.
I run away.
I run.
I run towards
my haven,
my place.
Where the chirpy birds
and sleek trees
are my only companion.
I go to that place
to take a breath of air
and freedom.
I touch the ground
and a wave of nostalgia hits me in the gut, everytime.
I worship that home so it takes care of me.
It feeds me peace.
It feeds me serenity.
It feeds me what skyscrapers
and a cubicle
and a girlfriend
and a rude boss
can’t,
It feeds me love.
And after my break,
or shall I say runaway,
after one spoon of freedom
I return back
with the promise
that I will be back to taste it again,
with the realisation that this elixir of freedom
is never ending.

He did that thing with his tongue, rolling inside me like a ball on fire.
Groans escaping me, mixed with the pleasure of having him inside me.
Just as I was losing it,
he thrusts deep inside me.
A wave of nausea hits me
and suddenly I am transported to a place,
where only he can take me.

Your innocence
is wrapped up
in the blanket of
maturity.
Your kiddish behaviour
is embedded
in a cocoon of
society
and it’s
measures.
Your happiness
is locked away
by yourself
in a tin box
whose key
is lost forever.

©anothergirlwithfantasies

Between what is said and not meant, and what is meant and not said, most of the love is lost.
-Khalil Gibran

They were just empty words
not promises.
The meaning behind your words
was lost somewhere
between your fear
and my ignorance.
You eventually forgot to say
that I have to solve the puzzle
to get to the meaning
for I am a lazy one
and what you said
was what I heard.
What I said
was full with my feelings.
My words were straight
but you were looking
for deeper meaning
and that’s when I lost too
when my words were not enough
for you to understand
what I was saying.

You meant you love me and I meant the same. But now our miscommunication has led to this lost love.

She knew what she was getting into, when
she called him on a date. Something about
him was pathetically dangerous, yet she
got attracted by his glamour. She met him,
danced along with him, swaying her lips
from left to right, brushing her hair over
his face, feeling him all over, yet she felt
***** with him. She felt some coarse vibes
coming from him, yet she surrendered
herself intimately. He felt her all over,
yanking her skirt, pulling her towards him.
It was getting kinda blurry when the clock
turned twelve and the alcohol started
touching her nerves. Kissing her lips,
whispering ***** deeds in her ears, she’s
listening yet without any emotions. She’s
losing herself, particularly to feel no pain,
but she doesn’t know that nothing is what
she will gain.

Now the other aspect of story, where I
come from behind and jolt him towards the
wall, breaking his spine. How dare he
touched my girl, she is silly, I know, but
she’s all I have. She pushes me to save
him, bending down to check his bruise. But  
I know better about her heart, her feelings
for me at the moment are bitter, but she’s
true at heart. I think her love is stored in a
vial, long slender and difficult to pull out,
but my friends say I am in denial. Hey lord,
help me ! Lead me to a way with
tranquility.

©anothergirlwithfantasies

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.

You lean towards me
and look deep in my eyes
in an instant
I forget all your goodbyes.
Your lips brush mine
and I feel a tingle
I am transported back
to the first time we mingled.
Your smile was devilish
and your hair were messy
in the cashmere suit and red tie
even you looked classy.
At that moment
we ****** like animals
but also created a relationship
and memory, very valuable.
Coming to now,
when it feels like deja vu
I want to forget all the drama
and just hold you.
Kiss you on your lips
and grab your ***
because if I don’t do it now
the moment may pass.
And what I have learnt
in the two years separated from you
is that people may come back
but time will always *******.
So I am deciding
to live in this moment
for this life
is full of enjoyment.

Word of the day- MOROSIS
Meaning- the stupidest of stupidities
________
I have stood in a corner
and peed straight
on someone’s car.
I have spit on the feet
of a policeman
while I was drunk.
I drove while
I was drunk
on tequila, ***** and whiskey.
I have slapped
my little brother
when he touched my guitar.
I have left
my school buddies
for my new friends.
I have said
“I hate you”
to my parents.
I have dropped out of college
to pursue my dream
of being a musician.
I have spread rumours
about chicks
in my school.
I have lied
countless times
to get a girl in my bed.
All these stupidities aside,
my biggest stupidity was
leaving her.
The one who challenged
every cell of my being.
The one who made me
blush like a ten year old girl.
The one for whom
I climbed a fire escape.
The one for whom
my heart throbs.
And I let her go
straight from my arms
to his.
And that
is my stupidest of stupidities.

Word of the day - NEFELIBATA
Meaning - cloud walker, one who lives in the clouds of their own imagination
________
She was such a woman,
not just a woman though
she was a prodigy.
She made her own rules
and she made her own paths.
Her *******
was always high
in the sky
for the people
who carried prejudices
against her.
She waved them all,
a goodbye,
because suddenly
one day
she decided to
just leave
the misconceptions
and allegations
of the society
behind her.
Rock bottom
or cotton candy
she handles both.
She was one fierce woman
who worked
just for herself.
She had compassion
but she left it behind too.
Ferociousness was her.
Wherever she went,
she passed on her teachings
of how to care
but for yourself.
She lived in her own world,
maybe it was full of rainbows and unicorns
or
maybe it was filled with blazing guns and people running for their lives,
either way, she managed to pull a smile through it all.
She was her own master.
She was her own maker.
She was a woman, a prodigy.

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 *****.

Word of the day - OPIA
Meaning - the ambiguous intensity of eye contact
______
All over the world,
I’ve heard legends
about an evil soul
re-birthed
because one woman,
dressed all in white,
her beauty like nature’s light,
her lips, full and cherry red
and her eyes,
eyes like that of a huntress.
One look from her,
and the dead man reawakened,
from love, from passion.
I never believed in the lore.
A man and woman
conversing in the language of eyes.
But two hours ago,
I met such a huntress
and once my eyes met hers,
no fireworks erupted around us
no violin strings
no flower petals falling from up above
just a wave of peace
and calmness
took over my soul.
I have committed dark sins
that stole my sleep at night
but one look from her
and I wasn’t terrified anymore
because I believed,
I had a chance at redemption.
I suddenly trusted the darkness
that resided in me.
Just one look
and I knew that
I could be purified too.
It wasn’t love.
It was magic,
and a dose of it
was all I needed
to be re-birthed.

Word of the day - PHILOPHOBIA
Meaning - fear of falling in love
______
I stopped.
Everytime I knew,
that I could wind up
on this path
I halted my footsteps.
Everytime I turned my back,
on the person infront of me
because I was too scared
to love him back.
Even if I saw
life blooming in his eyes,
if I felt
happiness emanating from him,
I still went away
because I was too afraid
to give this a shot,
afraid
of what will happen if that doesn’t work.
My optimism failed at that time
because negative thoughts filled my head
when it came to
imagining myself
in the arms of another.
I always pictured myself
sitting between a group of friends,
single and alone.
And I used to be happy,
but since the day I saw him
and I met him and I talked to him,
I realise I don’t want to be happy like this.
I want him to be the one,
to hold me when I cry myself out at night.
I want him to be the one,
to laugh at my lame jokes.
I want him to be the one,
to look up at him and say “I am not afraid”
And that’s what I did.
I gave him a chance.
But yesterday,
he left me,
for another woman.
He said, and I quote
“I never loved you”
and no, my heart didn’t break into pieces.
I didn’t shed tears, my eyes were dry to the core.
My soul didn’t die.
What died was my hope.
And now I wasn’t terrified of that road
I just hated that road.
So if another man comes crawling to me now,
to give me a chance,
sorry, but not sorry
I don’t have the will
to say “yes.”

Word of the day - QUONDAM
Meaning - once, but no longer
______
There was a time
when all your tears
were supposed to be shed
on my shoulder.
There was a time
when my arms
were just meant
to hold you at night.
There was a time
when your poetry
talked about
you me and us.
There was a time
when one smile from me
radiated your heart
and made you smile.
There was a time
when more than anything
even more than yourself
you loved me.
There was a time
when leaving everyone behind
I used to come at your place
to make you laugh.
There was a time
when every second of the day
went by
thinking about you.
And now this is the time
when my shoulders are bare
and there is no head
on them to support.
And now this is the time
when my arms
are clinging to
the air around me.
And now this is the time
when your words
lack the one thing
which made them meaningful, me.
And now this is the time
when my smile
or my tears
doesn’t even reach you.
And now this is the time
when in this whole wide world
amongst all the people
I am the most hated by you.
And now this is the time
where I sit by my bed
all day all night
with the hope that one day you will arrive.
And now this is the time
when I still think about you
but your thoughts
have taken a wrong turn.
It once was,
a special kind of love
but it
no longer is.

It was Friday, the 13th.
I was expecting the darkness looming
around me for years to capture me,
but what happened was not what imagined.
Swinging his arms, wearing a rainbow
hoodie, looking like a ******,
he walked past me, intriguing me.
Plenty of people were on that road, but he captures my eye.
Friday, the 13th was meant to be for darkness,
but after two years, waiting for him on the same road,
I found a rainbow for my unicorn
and it got pretty ecstatic for me.


©anothergirlwithfantasies

Word of the day - RANTIPOLE
Meaning - wild and reckless
________
He called me a *****.
A cigarette smoking
******* every guy in the vicinity
giving slutty vibes
wearing tiny clothes *****.
I wasn’t one.
I was just living.
******* guys gave me pleasure.
Smoking cigarettes gave me a sense of control over life.
Wearing tiny clothes gave me confidence.
Giving away **** vibes gave me yearning stares from men.
I was a hot-headed human.
I had that devil-may care attitude in my purse.
And I liked myself that way.
So when he called me a *****.
It led me to another hasty decision of mine.
The scissors I had in my purse made love with chest,
and I didn’t run away.
I stood there, watching his face lose words.
Watching his lips shutting and his hands covered in blood.
And when I realised he was about to lose it, I called 9-1-1
and before running away,
I bent down, whispered in his ear
“I am not a *****”

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 ****.

Scars may fade, but they last forever
-Bridgett Devoue

My love for you
is no less
than a scar on my skin.
Some believe
it makes my skin
look ugly.
Others think
like me,that
this one scar, makes me “me”
It’s a scar
I happily bear
on my raw dark brown skin.
But one day,
it starts to fade aways,
just like that.
Then you turn back
and give me your impish smile
and it resurfaces.
The deeper it goes
the stronger my love gets,
they go hand-in-hand.
It’s a story
I will tell
if it ever reaches its end.
It may fade again
with time
so don’t look back again.
Because this time
I don’t want you, scargiver
I want a healer.

My love for you
is no less
than a scar on my skin.
Some believe
it makes my skin
look ugly.
Others think
like me,that
this one scar, makes me “me”
It’s a scar
I happily bear
on my raw dark brown skin.
But one day,
it starts to fade away,
just like that.
Then you turn back
and give me your impish smile
and it resurfaces.
The deeper it goes
the stronger my love gets,
they go hand-in-hand.
It’s a story
I will tell
if it ever reaches its end.
It may fade again
with time
so don’t look back again.
Because this time
I don’t want you, scargiver
I want a healer.

She went on her way
without making any noise.
Her comings were noiseless
and so were her goings.
When she spoke,
there were just words,
hollow words.
She carried the silent death with her.
But only she knew,
that her mind
had a noise so loud
that even the minds
on the farthest corner,
would hear the shrieks.
Only she knew,
that her mind
was so capable
of controlling the magic
which is she, herself.
It’s an irony, that
her silence is chaotic,
but her mind is peaceful.