I Live In Escapism From The Things I Always Wanted.

I live in escapism from the things I always wanted.

I hate small talks... no I ain't here to say a hi only. Let us just forget about the existing world at three in the morning and deeply mesmerize in  each others word. Somewhere I heard, dark night shows your dark side. And dark side reflects the lightest shade of your spirit. It truly describes who is actually the person within the materialistic body.

Maybe we both would sit at the edge of my terrace and you'll explain what excites you. But the conversation start with the things which you hate the most, the reason behind your last break down and maybe the most embarrassing thing you witnessed. I promise there will be just us and the crescent moon witnessing our stupid conversation. Maybe three turns to four or moon invites early sun to visit us but I'm gonna hear all your stories.

Just the idea of two sane people sharing insane  things in deep makes my heart flatter like the conversation would never meet an end. I also belive in happy endings. So, we gonna end it with you sharing with me things that excites you,  things that make you fall in love or the very name of your first crush. And please with the first spark of sunrise, we will promise each other that we gonna forget all the things we confessed. Promise?

~k

Myth

With the fall of dusk,

I remembered you.

I still kept your unironed shirt,

Which I wore after our first love making.

It still has your fragrance,

And it still gives me butterflies.

I missed your arms around me,

That held me like I was the last person.

With the fall of night,

I missed making love with you.

I never knew when I stopped using my side pillow,

As you were there to drift me to sleep .

Your thick peach lips made for me,

As you ate me,I deliberately used to bite your delicious lower lip.

You loved it,

Didn't you?

You are missing it,

Aren't you?

But with the fall of dawn,

I realized all your promises for the platonic love,

were a lie to me.

You loved me or my body,

That was never mine.

I fell for your looks,

You fell  for my beauty.

Those days were immensely beautiful to being in love,

Yet you made me realize platonic love is a myth.

Marks to Roots

Strange feeling in the stomach,

it feels like a sword has crushed in me at my teen hood.

nobody told me things gone be change this quick,

like my body is no more mine.

just a glance and that pre teen body is at its end.

as a almost post teen kid,

i feel terrible for that twelve year old me.

staring at the mirror for the longest time,

caressing her stomach for the twelfth number of time.

the scars, the marks and the wounds,

were & are still there. at it's own place.

never ever could forgot those terrible feelings,

about how they're looking at me.

yeah, im no more like yesterday,

maybe a little less stressful than tomorrow,

but I'm here all stuck.

stuck at that strange body & fats,

that feels terrible to touch, to strange to feel, to awkward to acknowledge & to unacceptable to accept.

my body totally changed,

maybe in years those marks would turn to roots.

roots would grow its own lil plant,

hanging some memorable pathetic nightmares,

that's exciting to recall every night.

~k ♡

somewhere we're all connected with the red strings <3

Facts & Fanatsy

I miss the time when we used to share the same blanket;

I miss the time when you in the month of coldness tried to fill me up;

Fill me up with the warmth of your body;

With the essence of your cologne;

With the large pretty hands around my waist.

I'd rant how much I hate winter;

While you whispered in my neck "winter is for the people who are in love";

To your pretty lies, I got flushed;

To your pretty promises, I got flattered.

Ironically how amazingly, this winter I'm missing you.

Neither you are here to share the same blanket;

Neither you are here to give the warmth.

Other side of my bed is deserted;

Just like the other half of my heart is deserted of love.

You lied, 'winter is for heartbroken people';

To collect the pieces of their broken promises.

Facts and fanatsies are absolute remanants in novel world;

You proved that facts are for existing universe;

Fanatsies stays on the old torn pages of the novels we used to read in the month of december.

~k<3