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She listens,she understands.

The known yet intriguing scents, blanketed in black and white with a tinge of gold filling the air similar to that of a scattered flower.

Let her sail away to a distant,wondrous land where her dreams form streams that flow,
Where her thoughts have no limits to know.

She dreams in colors that drive away the blues.
She wants to swivel in the freedom of the wind. Her fragrance spreads gently with a breeze.

She doesn’t let the cloud of silences of today evaporate amidst the giggles of tomorrow. She never let’s anyone catch her when she’s vulnerable, she doesn’t see the point in sharing her hurt.

She doesn’t let herself explode. She listens. She understands.

Sometimes she wakes up sobbing uncontrollably in the middle of the night like as if she’s about to lose her breath and die. She’s the cosmos of her own wicked nature.

She’s the lover of words. She loves the words more than the entire universe. She’s the museum of shifted identities;a galaxy of romanticized dreams and passion.

She’s a fickle woman made of fire, she’s fragile. She doesn’t pretend to be anyone other than the woman she is. She’s the woman who doesn’t give a damn about destiny and refuse to give up now.

She has finally found her happiness because she has come to know about herself;
She stays curious about everything and gazed by everything,she is the author of her book, creator of her universe,she is the galaxy of her own self.

___________________________________

Copyright ©thatbizzare10

Or tell her..

Or tell her to stop what she loves to do,
tell her that she’s just wasting her time,that like her,her hobbies are trash.

Or let her tell you that they’ve accepted her with her bag full of awkwardness and it made her feel special.

Or tell her that no one is rain to anyone’s dying desert
Or let her tell you that everyone needs a shoulder to cry on but no one dares to lend it.

Or tell her that she’s bounded by conditions
Or let her tell you that ,she chose to let herself fly,to dream,to imagine.

The pages doesn’t punish her for scribbling scars onto it, maybe they understand what it means to her.
Or do someone dare to look into her eyes, carrying deep blue sea and no explorer courageous enough to venture into the waters.

She couldn’t take it anymore,she still don’t know why she decided to intervene. May be because she is really young and naive. May be because she lacks words and feelings. May be because she believed every person, every living and dead thing in this world deserves love. May be because she is so compassionate and so soft.

She is dumbfounded. She is overwhelmed. But she lives hundreds of lives.

Love is something really sweet in pages of a book
But is this for real ?
Aren’t your fluttering heart in control?
Those countess nights without sleep and those endless days which didn’t make any sense to her.

Scribbling in an empty room, weeping, because she thought she’s a mess,hard times engulfing her thoughts.
Still trapped,within the debris of her own heaven,
Which she once called ‘for granted’.

She sketches the Stars under the sky full of moonlight.

Hell,even I do so.

’cause it’s like she’s obligated to stay’.

She’s so simple that everyone’s laughs and smiles when reaches her ears, letting her heart sing a happy song,all day long.

She paints morning sky vibrantly into hues of orange and pink and red,as if it blushed at her sight.

Her soul garnishes the sun rather of it’s immense brightness,
Just like stars garnish the night.

To let a Petty breath mumble a thousand words,she absorbs the maelstrom of emotions.

This world is so beautiful
And all she does is sit around and wonder. How ?
How could something so pure survive out here ?
Even if it took her a lot of time to get to it.

Writing is not her first love,but it turned out to be the love of her life.

And she died for a thousand times and more.

Richa Saxena

Nothing stays forever !

Realize that you’re pure within
Realize that you can bloom on it’s your own.

My heart has been bare for years, I’ve nothing to cheer for gain and lament for loss.

Now I want to blossom and grow.

This is my deadly sin,
I believe in fantasy,
I miss the shadows acting as my shroud,
I run from fate.

I want to lose my memory so I no longer think of you.
I want to go so far so I no longer see you.
The sound of your voice when you tell me that you care still haunts me in my dreams.

Moments that we had shared together,
Moments that we had cherished together, hidden beneath a shining smile.
My emotions soon begin to swirl, speaking at the sky.

As time flies,I try to live
This infliction springs up day by day.

The life of heart slipping like sand as it says goodbye to it’s lifelong band.
And at last the reality is,
People come and go,that is part of life.

Fav one.

​

Have you ever felt your own thoughts strangling you? 

Felt like somebody knows the way to softly  kill you and you can’t just stop it from happening. 

Like a dry wind running across your skin, rusting the nude dreams lying around your eyes. 
And all you can do is just feel that part of you dying. You are struggling. You are shouting. But nobody can see it. 

You have covered yourself in unscarred smiles. And lined your lips with poetry. 

That nothing. 

Almost nothing seems broken  in you. 
But each time when people like you and I walk back those long roads, thinking about that Kodaline song in mind , there is that emptiness of somebody beside you.
But all those when you just scribble at the back of your copy, but all you do is stare at the blank page. And one voice goes around in a loop in your mind.
You look at your own self. And see that torn self between decisions. Dying a part but still breathing. 

Poems just substitute the idea of Him. 

But all you have is Yourself stuck in reverse. 

And a question:

Is a story ending or about to begin?

Tell me your story !


Everyone has stories in them. Some dare to speak it out and some just keep moving. 
You’re lucky if you are a part of someone’s story.

       When you interact with people your world collides, sometimes with sparkles or with life.
The world they hide inside them over years through imagination, their own experiences and Creation.

       The stories they had inside them adored with their childhoods and proceeded by the days they’ve paid pain for toil and emotions.

      The stories that are bestow result of the love they mustered and forwarded by their dreams. Their journey through darkest to the brightest phase of life.

       The times they’ve burried under their memories. Their sonorous voice,that they hid inside them.

      You might never thought of being part of someone’s world of stories but trust me you’ll find home there. Don’t dream of ruining someone’s world. Your footsteps to someone else’s world may nurture their beauty of world.

       You must be enough courageous to enter someone else’s world in their journey,you might end up losing yourself. Or, in this journey,you might end up building your own world.

To the special night.

Piano on table,

Song selected,

Music didn’t match,

Again rejected,

Finally came out…

My own creation,

Where situations were selected,

Feelings got matched..!!!!


As usual I am sitting near my piano, playing random notes. The moon is pretty visible from my room window. Today is full moon night. It’s the only time, I cornered myself from all worldly affairs. I just enjoy my own company. Now this  has become my favourite part of the day.
After a long tiring day,I want vibes to make myself renew. This piano has now become my good friend. When my fingers flow on it’s keys,I feel like it is answering my questions by it’s notes.
The weather today is so pleasant that I do not want to let it wander out of my sight. It’s pretty pleasing.
I generally used to sit on couch in my room having book in hands. Sometimes I wonder ,why I’m not like others? Why can’t I just hangout with friends like others do ? Why I like to spend my time in just my room.
Actually I can answer it.
My room, it’s the world of my memories,my happenings. I touch words and sounds in my room. Everything here is of my choice. These textures are intense, ecstatic,and I wouldn’t give them up for the whole world.
It has kept my many secrets. Everything which the world doesn’t know,my room knows. It is painted in my favourite relaxing colours. To the far side of the wall is a hidden flat screen television that would make any man envy you. The furnishings are soft yet firm and ensure comfort. My room is a treasure of my school memories, college memories and my life till date.
Yes I do remember my favourite lines regards to this,
“There is pleasure in the pathless woods,

There’s rapture in the lonely shore,there is society where none intrudes,by the deep sea, and music in it’s roar; I love not man the less,but nature more”.
My mother give me a loud shout. “Carissa”, there is one letter for you. It came in morning and I’ve kept it in your left drawer of your wardrobe.
I wonder who would send me a letter. Though it’s not a business letter. It seems like a personal letter.
I asked my mother why have you had touched my cupboard. You Know,I don’t like anyone to touch my belongings.
After a while I realized my mistake. I should not speak so rude to her. I approach mom and grab her from her shoulder. I kiss her and apologize. ‘I m sorry mom’, you know that I might overreact sometimes. My intention was not to hurt you. She simply kiss me on my forehead and make me realize that I haven’t done anything wrong. This is mother. She ask me to check that letter. Oh yeah! That letter,I forget about this. I’ll surely check that,I said. I’m sorry I again whisper in her ears.
Then I run towards my room. I walk to my wardrobe and open my drawer.

  • The aesthetics of the letter are quite  eyesome. It is wrapped in a soft pink cotton ribbon with a beautiful design at corners.

The Letter

I open the ribbon and keep it aside. I turn the envelope. As soon as I turn the envelope,my eyes get watered with tears. Just a line made my eyes watered.
“Hullo best favourite friend”,it reminds me of someone. It’s Satchel,my best friend.
Satchel,I scream, where are you? I’m missing you so badly. It has been six years, you haven’t called and messaged even. I question myself. Tears are continuously streaming from eyes to my face.
I open the letter. The first line made me cry deep intense. I’m sorry for being so rude for past years,he slipped his words.
I’m in London. I knelt down on the floor with the letter in my hand.
I move my eyes to next few lines. “Although we have not talked as much as we used to back in high school, I’m still missing you so very much. You know how they always say, best friends are hard to come by, indeed, friends like you are the reason why I’m still able to carry on living like there’s no tomorrow”.
“I must admit sometimes when you try to start a conversation with me, I get all grumpy and Moody,but that is only because you’re so good at picking the wrong time that I have to force myself to smile and happily talk to you even when I don’t feel that way at all”,he exclaimed.
I smile and growl, you stupid,you never cared for me. Just these paragraphs made me cherish with those best old memories. I just can’t stop my tears from falling down.
It seems like you yourself narrating the letter. Now it reminds me of everything about us.
“And you Know what, when you smile, I’ll smile with you;when you cry, I’ll say: “Oh please,there are plenty of fish in the sea,shut it!”. It pops up my heart beats. After reading this my heart is beating so fast that I wonder it wouldn’t burst.
I move to next lines.
“I remember how I tutored you after school all the time because I was surprisingly good at math. I remember how people said we were perfect together. I being popular because I played drums and were a total techno freak gamer who naturally attracted people and you being the pretty smart and silent girl to be very rude to boys,he applauded. I exclaimed, atleast you speak few words in my praise. Satchel,you Idiot, you don’t know how much I miss you.
He growls,I used to Call you weird but you said I was weird too. Then I said we were both weird and you said we were just technically educated. And we laughed so hard.
These lines made me bit irritated but it has brought a little smile on my face. My hands are shivering. A chill runs down my spine. There are Goosebumps on my arms. I smirk at the letter.
My eyes move to next paragraph,”Oh yeah I’m sure some people would consider themselves lucky to have you. I’m not one of them however, you’ve always been like a pet monkey to me.
I smile. Satchel, you’re Still the same. You never lag any chance to make me irritate.
Now I’m gonna read further,my heart whispered,”Be aware of the place where you are brought to tears”. Everything just move like a beautiful movie of me and Satchel. It’s beautiful flash back of school memories.
I read the next line. Hey! You remember the day when we first met.
I stand shakily and rush towards my book shelf and take out the cartoon that contains all my stuffs of school life. I search for my diary. It brings the scent of a perfume I know well,and the touch of a kiss – a kiss that come from far away, slowly, slowly, slowly, until it rested on my lips.
I take my diary and fall on my knees near the letter.
As I open my diary,the flash back of the day when we first met starts in front of me.