Let me take you ,
Into my fathomless fantasy.
Let me uncover , What it feels like to be the one to love.
I see our bodies pressed against each other.
Fragrances binded into one.
Lips being sober.
Adrenaline pumping it's pace over .
I sense your heartbeat against mine
And I hear everything , From the whispers to the moans and the sound of your breathe .
You loose sweat , you cry , you sleep , you care , and you love tooo?
I lay confused . I thought you did not exist for real. I thought you were made of metaphors.

With color painted on my skin ,
I walk amidst these clouds ,
Too high , too scared to fall ,
To fall onto more melanin.
The more the melanin the more alien I become , they say.
I try to soak these clouds into me ,
Like I absorbed the Indian in my folks .
Like I carry a bunch of them beneath this skin.
Like my taste buds will always crave for more spice.

Like it is all I know.
Like I am always the one suffering with the wrong accent.
Like an accent could be right or wrong.
As if , proper has a sound of its own.
I come from the land of red soil
Soil being red from the blood .
I come from the air ,
Filled with all the carbon and heat
I come from the waters of Indian ocean .
But , mainly I come from my country , my India

It was a link like the one between bonds ,
Irreplaceable and impeccable.
Bestfriends , what they said they were.
When together , they gained a definite optimum.
Fancied by the crowd ,
But deep down pitied by all.
Hearts pumped with the same rhythms ,
The same hesitancy and same agitations.
Bestfriends , what they said they were .
A bit drowsy , a bit shattered
What to consider next ,
Was her only possible quest.
But sooner or later ,
She will perceive the certainty ,
That it was no more than a witless sanction ,
Bestfriends what they said they were.

At the end of the day , it's just you curled within you , within you ,
with your thoughts floating ,
even with all this gravity.

You are a woman ,
With muscles that
stretch and curl ,
With skin ,
Which glows.

I think there is a special beauty in being able to romanticize love.
Its all up in here, in my mind.
There is a spectrum of thoughts in my imagination.
Sometimes my love can be one sided and it's safe to say that i like that more.
The part where you get to wonder and the excitement that follows.
I wonder a lot of things about you.
About how do you look like when you laugh.
Do you have an ugly laugh or are you a shy laugher.
Sometimes i make up moments in my mind,
More than often in those moments, time freezes and we make our own little infinity.
Sometimes i want to say things to you, and i wonder what you will say back.
I wonder if you will say what i wanna hear.
I like the wondering part.
I like to think.
I wonder how it would feel to hold your hands.

Isn't  lonely another kind of high?
Of how each high has a low of its own.
As if they are the two rivers destined to meet, except there is no ocean after that.
It's just the high and the low, following each other, back and forth, like long lost lovers.
So just like people use drugs,
I guess I use my lonely,
To get a clear head,they say.
On nights like these, I dance with him, him being my lonely.
He creates so much space for me, drools with me, I wonder if I could breathe this time, and yes I do, in that moment there is no one between me and my fresh breathes.
No regrets, no bad memories, no hatred.
I am as pure as a new born,
As light as dandelion seeds,
As happy as humanly possible.
I guess this is called being high.
My mum once told me- ' love everyone but love yourself first'.
So as I pen down these words, packed beneath my sheets, I wonder shouldn't we be high all the time?
Shouldn't we be in love with ourselves all the time?

Now that I have  been thinking about it over my sleep,
I think you are kinda like ice cream,
you are like ice cream on a very hot summer day.
you keep melting away,
but I keep taking you back,
putting you back up in the freezer.
Trying to make you like before,
at least I think I do,
but I keep losing parts of you,

Some parts of you that I love,
So tell me should I stop freezing you back
Taking you back?

When a poet falls in love with you,
He turns dates into historical events,
From the way you looked ,
To the way you laughed ,
To the way you spoke,
To the way you loved ,
Everything gets moulded with gold ,
In the chapters of this funny place,  called life.
Those words become the beginnings of new destinations for some lovers ,
But for some it's the demise.
When a poet falls in love with you,
He gives the ocean over to you,
No matter if you are a pond or a tiny drop.
When a poet falls in love with you ,
You are no more made of flesh ,
No , you are made up of gold ,
With every inch perfect in its own way .
When a poet falls in love with you,
No matter what color he is ,
He will always describe you as the spectrum ,
Carrying every shade he could ever imagine .
When a poet falls in love with you ,
His words can taste like the dish you have been craving for weeks,
When a poet falls in love with you ,
He notices all the scars ,
And describes them like the map to his destination.
When a poet falls in love with you ,
He writes all his poems for you ,
Only to abandon them all after a while
Like this one....

A creature meant to tease .
With all of their ease.
Even if some noble wants to cease ,
It is said that she possesses impure deeds.
OH YES. GOD MADE HER A WOMAN.
The one which people stare from head to toe
And say her to be a *** ,
But what can she do to show,
That there are values,which beneath still glow.
OH YES. GOD MADE HER A WOMAN.
Wouldn't it be great?
If someone paralyse this game of love & hate
Afterall that nine-month wait
For sure , should be worth the pain.
OH YES. GOD MADE HER A WOMAN.
Who possesses two delicate ******* ,
Often whose cleavage is repressed
By the new born who is rather blessed
To elicit the milk that is the best.
OH YES. GOD MADE HER A WOMAN.
And there are some who'll hesitate ,
But there are also the ones who'll not tolerate.
Be the second one and be straight.
So you can proudly say mate ,
OH YES. GOD MADE HER A WOMAN.
~Sneha :')

It takes a lifetime to know someone.
Knowing someone is like plucking the petals of a rose,
Only to realize there is more to the picture.

Everyday I learn more and more about you;
You are one of those novels I will keep reading on my own till the last word.

Even though my friend gave me a spoiler,
I don't care, I will wait for the words to spell out of your mouth, off the pages I mean.

But,
What if you are not the rose afterall?
.
‌what if you are like an onion,
whom I peel everytime trying to know you,
Only to realize my eyes are sobbing even more.

Afterall , I guess,
It wasn't all that bad.
Maybe nothing is all that bad.
I danced at the cliff with you for a long time ,
The fall felt like end of life - quite painful but everybody saw that coming.
And there were days for sure , when the dances appeared like a havoc , heated with chaos all over it.
But we danced through.
They told me to move on and forget him. Is that what moving on means ?
Maybe nothing is all that bad.
I hope our brains came up with recycle bins.
Escapism isn't a word , if it is I don't see where it exists.
I carry pieces of people with me as I share the same breath with them .
And to move on from him took me long enough , but I remember the firsts and the lasts and will always do.
Because he took a part of me too ,
A part that is safe with him.
We shared our bodies together ,
We drew each other on the canvases of love ,
I dived into you , you were there like a safeguard, full of air.
And the laughs and cries are always real , no one can be that fake.
So maybe when you share the same  corridor as mine and would pass besides me I won't pause to gather the mutual atoms amidst us anymore .
I would recognize the smell as something familiar , and will walk away.
Maybe it's time to let go

And then in her deep conscience she pondered ,If anyone would carry her shopping bags as she went up and down the escalators , brawling to make them still and herself stiff.
She wondered , If those drugs were a magic bullet that everyone aspires or were they a summon to death coming prior.
She wondered if the nights will always be this fore saken. Will it always go the same way? Or will someone sing lullabies to her and swirl with her curls.
She wondered , the series of events , synchronized in her life. And imagined what it would be like to lead a normal life.
She wondered and wondered about life. But her wonders were just awful and never suggested something good about it. So oh! She did always wondered why did she wondered grief , if it rather could be glee.

I imagine that i could fly and pilot ,
All my hopes , with all my wit.
No one dreams to be a 'Chaiwala'
And neither do i.
Don't want to be called as 'Chotu'.
A 'Doctor' before my name ,
Is what people will look up to.
And i wonder now ,
If all those reservations ,
And all those scholarships,
Can lead me to my perfect way?
Give me something to aspire ,
I fantasize to have light ,
Equivalent to the Sun ,
It's own and the most.
Give my Wings , Dear Lord .
I need to fly up high ,
Don't abolish them
Or one star in the sky will be gone forever.

What i really want is just to build up a home. Where we happily live away from all this competition and pollution. Away from this dark side. I want to live in the brighter one. I want to build a home where on the door there is this name plate with our name craved with the wood and then there are our handprints . The bigger one being his and the tiny one is mine. And then besides the door is the postbox. The postbox that has got its ***** a little loose with rust all over. But, Ah! The happiness it gives when in the middle of the pile comes your mom's letter. And you get so excited that you never close the box and run into open the envelope. Then as you enter there is this massive wall that has so much of charm in it. There are these tiny snapshots of when we went to our honeymoon in the islands , There is this grand photo of our marriage. There are portraits made by you. And everything inside of that walls gives so much of satisfaction , so much of happiness , that even if something happens to US , we have so much to miss , so much to remember , so much to cry and so much to laugh tooo. All that's lighted up with very pretty xmas lights. And then besides the wall there is the kitchen. Oh! How we wish that we could just shift our bed over there. Our kitchen- it will be like the most enchanting place. All sorts of junk. And the fridge- everything from ice cream to alcohol , from Chocolates to candies. It will be our happy place. We will cook together. We will dance together until the oven buzzes. And we will eat like no one's watching. Like we haven't eaten for days , like , like its the last pizza we will ever taste. We will **** together , we will make fun of each other , and at the end of the day we will laugh so much about all the super crazy stuff we did. We will sleep on our bed remembering everything. And i swear you look just the prettiest head when you're asleep. So i pretend to sleep because i know you are gazing at me. I wait till your snoring starts and it doesnt take a while to start , because you are so good at sleeping. And then i just stare you my love with the deepest love inmy eyes. Feeling your breathe against mine ; And even though we have come a long way together , i still don't believe the fact that i got someone like you , the fact that you are so pretty and you are so kind and gentle and sweet and caring and the qualities they can never be described fully. So i just lay down there kiss you on your head and sleep with me wrapped around your arms.
Not every story has to have drama , some are just real life stories.

Isn't it beautiful how there are infinite versions of everything?
There are so many different worlds, I have lost its count.
There is a world in which only I exist,
I sometimes mumble lullabies
I sometimes shout songs in the shower,
Because this version is only mine,
Nobody else would see me, right?
I tap on my feet,
Make paintings with the tip of my fingers in thin air.
I tell myself whatever i want to hear.
There is also a version in which only you and I exist.
You can imagine anything in this, in our world,
And there would still be a possibility that it exists.
Isn't that beautiful?

I remember those days ,
My dear mom would make my braids ,
And i would sleep on my daddy's lap.
They would sing me lullabies ,
As i laid among them.
And we gained perfect lucidity.
I remember all those mood swings ,
The perfect fact about them being ,
Every fellow would still captivate me.
And How could i forget that spark that went through the eyes of mine?
Curious to know about the world.
The antiquity, The sagas.
How i dreamed that it was a prepossessing place.
But , but now that i have known what the world actually exhibits.
I no longer yearn to know anything else.
The past definitely has proved to be a dismay.
I wish that everybody had heart of a child ,
I wish that everyone could be decent without being fake.
That maybe life could be sober again.
Maybe i could be uncanny but free , and no one will judge me.
Maybe i could be a free bird and gaze and the world as i fly.
Maybe there should be no bars of restrictions.
That i could be passionate and inquisitive forever.
Oh! I so wish to be a child again. And live forever the life of a child.❤
#nostalgia

You dont know this yet,
but i love you silently.
I have realized it's much more safer and
well, much less vulnerable.
I have been through enough to know the exact safe distance from a person.
A distance far enough for you  to not hurt me;
close enough for your smile to be contagious.
I am a little spontaneous though,
some might rephrase it as 'passionate' .
So i might cross the distance a little closer sometimes.
I dont know who i am apologizing to but i am sorry.

Water is beautiful.
Water has no color.
Water has no taste.
Yet it is so beautiful.
At the horizon water keeps kissing the shore,
Only to be pushed away from it.
Water ain't tequila.
It won't make you high on it.
It will satisfy your thirst just when you need it the most.
It will save you from all the other spices you put into your mouth without thinking twice.
Water is always there.
You say you like cold water.
So it shrinks itself up;
Just so it can fit in with you.

Maybe I am water.
But most days we don't drink water as an hobby.
We just drink it cuz we are really thirsty.

Yes , I hated you with all my wit , even in my deep conscience.Yes , There was a time when i could hardly remember all the good stuff you did to me. What we did together.
Yes there was a time when my hatred overcame all my love.
And yes it indeed was a terrible dark time.
But eventually , all those nights , all those talks , all those fights ,got  trapped in the back of my mind. And the slightest thought that could flicker in my head was of you , my love.
And , Yes , it was now the time , when i could remember all of it , when i wanted to feel the ecstasy at the sight of your smile. When i wanted to know that sometimes , the reason behind your smile is me.I wanted to know that the things that we felt are not vanished , they are still a part of us. And forever be.
Yes , it was the time , when i was eager to get all our golden times back. And this time i wanted to win them all by myself. I wanted to EARN you by myself. I wanted it back just the way they were. Because maybe it might not be perfect , but it was all i had , and above all , it was all i have ever wanted.
No more a cry baby , i will be bold .
No more a angry women, i will be calm and cool.
No more extra possessive , I know you , and what's your heart.
Yes , IT IS the time when my love has finally conquered all the flaws and i am all right with WHOEVER YOU ARE. And not only your's , now is the time when i know exactly , what my mischievous mistakes were. And i promise that they never will be repeated.
And now is exactly the time when i do know what i seek for , what i wish for , what i dream for and most importantly , what i live for.
MY LOVE STANDS ABOVE ALL ,
FOR ME , YOU STAND ABOVE ALL.

I think I know you, Everyday, 9 am, since 9th grade I have seen you on the Subway. Well, maybe not every day, we all run a little late all the time. But I see you more often than many of my friends. Sometimes when you didn't come I would make up stories in my head as to give me a reason enough for your absence. Funny, overthinking. My friends say I am not much of a talker. But I do observe people. And even if I try not to, forgive my metaphor taste but you are kinda like an ice cream truck on a very hot summer day bringing all the hope and the light in the room. The little Bell on the truck is like your laugh, a sound meant to alert you of the happiness coming my way.
‌Some days you put a blue scarf on you, fold it around your neck. It's your favorite one, I know. There are a lot of things that I don't know about you, for example your name. Maybe I don't want to. Sometimes people admire you from a distance without you even noticing.

There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.

Misleading. Thats what life is , these days.
She doesnt know the destination ,
She cant find the path familiar.
Usually , she knew every piece of it.
As if it were a jigsaw puzzle and the answers lied in her heart.
They told her - '  Follow your heart , dreams and all.'
It doesn't beat with passion anymore , her heart i mean.
She cant recognize the thumping of her heart.
It beats faster now ,
Though she wonders why she doesnt feel alive.
Like the five month old message ,
Lying beneath the drafts of your mails.
Adressed to that one broken love ,
Her emotions are equivalent to that now.
With the real colors , laid unstructured ,
In the hope of a revival.
And as she gets herself to sleep ,
Trying to keep up with all those body atoms,
She wonders if the adrenaline will keep pacing forth , If its usual now?
She assumes if it accumulates ?
The thought is provoking and intimidating at the same time.
But what if the secretion will burst her up?
She finds the thought relaxing.
She is happy now.
She hopes that the next sun would be the last her eyes gets to meet.
She sleeps now.

I remember this one time,
When we were in different countries,
We were both gazing at the moon,
And Elvis Presley was playing in the radio,
And in that moment I felt so close to you;
Even though we were miles apart.

Now even if we are in the same neighborhood,
I am still here,
Still looking at the same moon,
Why does it feel like we are so distant?

Like 6 digits on the odometre, makes the car a better one.
Isnt that the greatest revolution of all, For something to be good and then more good?
What if we follow this concept with women?
The times she has opened her legs , For different men ,
So as to impose her scars .
For being brave enough
For being stupid enough.
For reliving the pain and the breathes and fragrances again and again.
Then wondering in the back of her head if they all smell the same?
Its one of those nights, when she is solitary with herself ,
Curled within her , within her.
Only the thoughts ponder with her.
Regretting the bad decisions
For being timid enough , To let them all in;
She doesnt know though,
She has been macho enough ,
To spread her parts ,
To be able to give it all.
To be able to move out in the snow , Knowing she owned the fire place.
Some woman are petrified enough to sit in the warmth forever , without knowing the weather outside the walls , the world i mean.
She has been resourceful enough ,
She has spread joy enough.
She has been joyful enough.
She has given more than enough though.

Life is a cassette tape.
It is a playlist you have no control over.
It's the cassette you will wait for to put up it's pace on its own.
Sometimes you will try to make it right by poking a pencil into it.
Life is listening to all of the playlist and secretly being impatient about that one favourite song.

Wait for the night,
For he shall come,
You won't miss him anymore.
He will come rising out of the sky,
Maybe a little faded,
Behind those clouds.
As if the stars weren't enough,
To make the sky a galaxy.
As if the sky wasn't enough to make the world seem limitless,
He comes to me,
With all his curves and edges,
And I look upon him,
That ideal gaze ,
The same familiar longing,
Longing to reach the infinity, that is you,
The wind hugs me all over again.
And you are still here, gazing ;
I am still here, longing;
I wish it was the other way around you know ,
I could only imagine if the moon, which is a metaphor for you, wanted me.
How perfect of a world would it be.
The sun comes up,
I go to bed.