Broken-

Broken-

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The words he said left an echo which has only now, begun to fade.
“I didn’t break you, you were already broken”. It felt like a hundred pins were stuck into me all at once, with my body’s gating mechanism shut down so that I could feel the pain in every cell of every part of my body. He broke my heart, but it was my whole body which fell apart.

“Broken”- he called me. I was damaged, damaged goods with no value. I spent a long time trying to make sense of that word. A little longer, I spent on anyone who could fix- broken. God, I hated that word.

I wish I could say- that I realized the words he spoke that night were false, lies and nothing more but I can’t. I’m only just now learning, maybe he was right; maybe I am broken; but I am so done waiting around for him to come and fix me.

The image above is courtesy of Lost Treasures found.com

I’m Done-

I’m Done-

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I’m done. How many times I’ve said that word and betrayed the very essence of it. But there’s only so long I can hold on to our broken pieces before the shards imprint a permanent infirmity. No, I am not done. I will be, but i’m not. I’m just getting started. I might leave for a day and slip back for an hour; leave for two days and slip for some minutes; leave for a week and slip back for a few seconds. I’d keep leaving and slipping untill there is nothing left to slip back to- I have arrived at my destination and I am done, done with you.
But until then, I am just getting started…

image credit: waterdropsonmywindow.wordpress

And I smile-

And I smile-

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When I think of him, I smile. I smile at my naivety, which some may call, stupidity. I smile at the insane idea, I could have anything- just, about anything. Beauty, brains, career, every single dream accomplished and still have that love by my side. Who was I kidding. I could try, I did try… The moment I grasped one, another slipped right through my fingers. And I smile, I can’t help but smile… It’s the only way I can breathe in air without drops falling out of my eyes.

“It’s me or it”, he said with eyes reflecting the winter weather- they were white and cold, nothing like I’d ever seen. I smile cause I didn’t see it coming. It was either him or it- he placed me in a position to make a ludicrous choice. But to me- he was never a choice, never an option, always a definite.

And at that moment, standing at the junction- I could see his bus moving. He never wanted to stay in the first place. And I let him go… He fluttered away like a newly hatched butterfly and I stood there, trying to make sense with the little rationale left of me. “What just happened?” I found myself asking rhetorically, time after time after time; The only answer- Maybe, they were right. Maybe, I can’t have it all at the same time. 

Image courtesy of : Chapter of my life on tumblr.

Searching…

Searching…

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She searched for reviews of books to read, the best she got was “satisfying”. She wasn’t one to settle for average, never had been; so she tried the search button yet again.

More books, more search titles and more average satisfying reviews. She wanted a book she could drown her sorrows in. She wanted a book which reflected the strange universe embedded in the depth of her mind. She wanted a book whose words she could breathe.

But above all, she wanted a book she could recall with a smile at the unusual coincidence of distinct similarities with the characters,
         In the end, she decided, maybe I should write one…

IMAGE CREDIT:Merilocal.com

Happy endings…

Happy endings…

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For a long time, i thought, it was going to be you. My happy ending was finally coming true. Us against the world, an imperfect but happy life. And then, it was just me. Alone, with my thoughts at dawn. I can’t even describe how it happened. The phone calls stopped all of sudden. People say, love is a growing emotion and I thought it’d be the same for the reverse. No apologies, no explanations, no accusation, it just stopped- our conversations. You didn’t bother anymore.

The only explanation- maybe you didn’t love me, maybe you never loved me. And that makes no sense. Not to me, not now, and maybe not ever.

Alone with my thoughts at dawn, trying to find the silver lining, of a crushed happy ending.


day 27 of October Poetry Writing Month. Today’s prompt: What is your happy ending? Write for ten minutes asking yourself that question. IMAGE CREDIT: imgfave.com

Fragile-

Fragile-

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If there’s one thing you’ve taught me, it is not to expect, from lovers or friends. Love leads to expectation, and inevitably, hurt. Tracing your words backward, I chose to love; It wasn’t much of a choice, I had already fallen. You said I was fragile, how I wish you weren’t right. How I wish my heart was a bounce ball, bouncing back after every squash. But it’s not and I’m fragile, like a mirror, like a glass. Never broken by a single smash, merely a compilation of cracks.

Here I am, now, in the present- a compilation of cracks no one would rather see, rather come close to. In fear of being cut, scarred. You tried to smash me into the wall so i’ll fall back in pieces, but I didn’t. I won’t. You May hurt me, crack me, imprint your scar In me- but you can’t break me. Or maybe I’m just unbreakable. Too frozen to be thawed.

In anyway, you’ve shown me one thing- how badly and desperately I am in need of magic. They say it’s a powerful thing. I need magic to taper down the scars you’ve left on my frail self. I need magic to remind me broken doesn’t mean damaged. I need magic in my life, to ease the hurt, to tame the fear of imprinting others the way you did. But mostly, I need magic to remind me, every moment your memory comes flooding back, why in the first place- i let you go.

I need magic to scream in my head, every time your face flashes back, why you are wrong for me in every possible way. I need magic’s reassurance that I am me and maybe that was too much for you to handle. I need magic to confirm what I already know, maybe letting go isn’t so bad after all.

P.S: this random is now on twitter @wordsofarandom. Let’s connect 😀

Of a broken heart…

Of a broken heart…

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And she wondered how one heals, from a broken heart. What if the pieces flutter to a far away land? What if the holes burnt deep, fibrous and scar? What If the saying was right, love lost can’t be back? Under the glistening moon, her reflection stared back. And the memories storm bringing moist to her eyes. And she cursed at herself for falling for a man, whose heart was incapable of loving back.

And she wondered how one heals from a broken heart? How a one sided love could make one feel alive? How a person could crush her without even trying? How she broke all her rules falling for that one wrong guy? How reality could be, so cruel to her side? How she knew but didn’t say No the very first time? How she let her heart lead her straight to it’s down fall? How all shades of wrong could feel so right at the same time?

The face in the river, she didn’t recognize. She yearned for the innocence of her past life; where love was a stranger and her heart was intact; life dealt her a blow from which she still shuddered. She fell for an angel, in the blink of an eye; forgetting every coin has got two sides. Now she sits at the bank wondering, how to heal from a broken heart.

IMAGE CREDIT: deviantArt.com

Her: The intricate puzzle

Her: The intricate puzzle

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She had never been whole. She was a collage of uniquely designed pieces. With each person she trusted, she gave a piece. With each one she loved, she gave a piece. They never really knew her, only the pieces she let them see.

Some were handed a glimpse of her childhood, stories of her pranks; some her laughter, the events which made her smile; a few, her passions- the pieces which lit her eyes; a minute, she gave her sorrows, the memories that tug at her heart.

And some, she swore to take her grave, the pieces no one knew she had. The dark patches, the mystery behind who she was. She thought it a burden to lay it on people; she could barley handle it, how could they. Those pieces she kept close to her.

Those dark pieces, were the borders of the intricately designed puzzle of “her” without which she could never really be figured.

And she smiled knowing, although soon enough, the abnormal cells within her would win, the pieces she left with the ones she loved would illuminate her memories. She gave them the light she needed them to see.

Each person a different piece, a different memory, a different reflection of history, a different light. She was a uniquely designed puzzle.

IMAGE CREDIT: Gallerygogopix.net

Dreams and Maybes’…

Dreams and Maybes’…

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You are the best thing that ‘s ever been mine

Maybe someday I’ll get to send this to someone and mean every word of it. Someone who’ll appreciate and reciprocate a similar feeling. But if it doesn’t happen, then that’s okay. Life wasn’t meant to be a fairy tale in the first place. We gain some, we lose some. Sometimes, dreams do become a reality, other times, they remain what they are- an illusion, fantasy.

Maybe someday, he’ll come, sweep me off my feet, maybe he won’t. Maybe he’ll be everything I have ever dreamt of, maybe he won’t be. And maybe, just maybe, there wouldn’t be a he. Maybe it’s just going to be me. Living and thriving on my own, dusting my cold cellars and being my Prince Charming, at the same time, my Cinderella. And at the bottom of it, maybe there won’t even be a me anymore- that’s also a possibility.

In any case, I aim to spend the rest of this unknown possibility being the best version of me, dreaming my dreams and hoping for victory because in the end, a life well lived is equivalent to all the dreams achieved and to those dreams that lay beyond in the oblivion, like, having a Prince Charming, having the best thing that’s ever been mine, to them I say-

I’m glad I lived a life positive enough to have such dreams and if someday, the sun rises and there isn’t a “me”, I hope that someone, somewhere will read these words and go- “darn, she lived the best of her life” and if not, then I can dream that too. That’s the best thing about dreams, anything is a possibility in that realm.

This is me saying, go on dreaming, go on living and know that you are perfect enough to handle being both your Prince Charming and your Cinderella. It is an amazing feeling to say to someone “you are the best thing that’s ever been mine” but what’s more amazing if being able to say it with conviction to the person we see when we look in the mirror.

IMAGE CREDIT: saying images.com

Letting go…

Letting go…

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Let it go, they said. Like it’s just some patch on the sleeves of a shirt which would come off after a date with the detergent. But they were wrong, once again. They said we wouldn’t last, we did. They said, our meeting was a glitch in time but it wasn’t, was it? you had planed it all- the accident, the friendship, it was all a game to you. A game I fell in deeply and blindly for. A game that played me rather than the other way round. And here they are again, urging me to just let it go. But how can I? You broke my heart more than anyone could, you toyed with my soul like a kid in the zoo, but still I can’t let you go. And they wouldn’t understand… Nah, they wouldn’t get it even if their lives depended on it.

How do I explain to them that the girl who destroyed me was the same one who watched me at night bleed through my wrist but smiled and gave me a hug saying, I’ll still be with ya tomorrow.
How do I tell that the girl who betrayed my trust was the only one who visited me day after day when I was entered into the facility; that she was the one who boosted my courage and gave me the strength to face life and chase it with a different face and perception.

Yes she broke me, but she also taught me the way to build myself back up. The old me would have crumpled up after the betrayal, but the new me, she’s wading through the storms, slowly, steadily. How do I let go of someone who meant so much to me at some point in my life. I guess, life isn’t a straight line as we are taught, it’s filled with lots of curves and corners. Time heals everything they say, let’s see if they are right this time because even though the wounds are all scarred up, it still burns like it was just yesterday.