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Monday, July 24, 2017

i was the first girl you loved


i may sound like drizzle
but i'm monsoon rain
the passion seeped into your bones
the love running in your veins

i'm that old cassette
you can never throw away
i'm neat whiskey
you drink after a tiring day

you've fallen in love after me
but no woman can rock your world
i'm the storm you chased
i'm the photo you burned

what if we meet again
...on cold august dawn?
would you pour wet kisses?
would you play our favorite song?

it was many moons ago
i still remember how i felt
your body weight on me
and how miserable i was when you left

but i take pride
as no one can love you the way i did
i was your 3 am phone call
i'm the first 150 pages of your manuscript

it was half-hell, half-heaven
the time we spent
it was too powerful to be true
it had to end

i bet you think of me sometimes
my memories have not gathered dust
we both know it was true
i was the first girl you loved

*image source - here

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Monday, July 17, 2017

Because your selfies are sexy


There is a thing with dreams - they are yours, and yours only. And there is another thing with dreams - the dirtier they are, the more fun they are to remember. You can wrestle naked in the mud with your beau, and it seems the poshest thing ever. You feel like Woody Allen's heroine who can bare-it-all to show passion. Even I had a dream that was so sensuous my body temperature soared. It was with a man on whom I have a secret crush. And you know the best part - I'm sure he would approve of what all we did. But that's beside the point.

It has been two weeks since our illicit dream and it has been two whole weeks I'm thinking why my brain worked the way it did. I have no repressed fantasies. I have no urges either. Then, why! Oh, why! This dream has been giving me sleepless nights since. Even today, much before my feet touched the floor in the morning, his thought touched every pore of my body. I picked my phone from the bedside and scrolled the Facebook feed. I saw a glimpse. It was his selfie. My heart didn't pound. There were no butterflies in the stomach either. But there was strong urge to step out of my bed and step into his. Damn, he looked sexy. Then and there, while my body screamed ecstasy, my mind found the logic. I'm sleepless from the last two weeks because of you mister. Because your selfies are sexy. Because one look at them and I melt away.

Still, very ladylike, I pressed the like button on your selfie. And walked out of my bed feeling weak in the knees.

P. S. May I sleep well tonight. Or maybe not.

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Monday, July 10, 2017



For more hashtag stories, stalk me on - Facebook, Twitter and Instagram

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Monday, July 3, 2017



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Monday, June 26, 2017

he made woman out of a girl

i loved a boy
who knew nothing about prose
his tongue got tied
if i called another name for a rose

his words were straight
his thoughts crystal clear
love so pure
and acts sincere

Only a folly
he did that night
held me by my waist
very-very tight

i scurried through my brain
no words came out
but my body was screaming

as a poet, you'd say
i should know a perfect rhyme
hell, it was neither the place
nor it was time

i turned into something better
the moment he touched the curves
i became woman from a girl
and poet of a few words

the waves came crashing
like there was a tsunami inside
if he'd left me that moment
i would've died

that night twisting-turning
on my wrinkled bed sheet
i felt different
i felt complete

*image source - here
**posting a light romantic poem after ages

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