And the coffee is finished

In between the sips of the coffee
The talks of marriage was being exchanged
Not of her's
But of someone in the town she knew
But of her siblings

It doesn't come easy to her to spell about her own
Although it's own mind somewhere in the corner
She have alot of wandering clouds
Some drifting to heart
Some drifting to mind
Some drifting to him
Some drifting to the right
The right defined by her mom

Mom says
"Now a day's people say something
People mean something else
People act on some other definitions
You want something else
You try to convince yourself for something else
You are lazy to action your goals
You are just being.
And that's only can do at this moment.
Be.
You can't help your heart but,
Please help it be on your side more than the side
It wants to.
Life doesn't work as per our plans
It sometimes happens that
Life and we agree over certain thoughts
And then Goals happen.

And the cup stands empty
So did she
Career is happening to her
Knowledge is coming and leaving with more speed
But
It seems heart is just spilling of the red blood
And so the love just flows with it.
If she finds the future love
Will she be vacant of love
Will he have the enough to hold both of them

Comments

The shying words

How do you believe the moon isn't whispering your stories to someone aren't the chance of him whispering it to some writer high May be one of the reasons why you related to the story yesterday on Netflix May be that's how your crushes end up in your favorite color today May be that's how you cleared the interview today How do you know the moon isn't working on his script with your lines If you can believe someone that far How do we end up doubting the skin and flesh besides and around us If we don't hold expectations and grudges when it comes to him Why wonder for years over a message that din come through I don't understand how we whisper our secrets to the mountains and the sea but fear of losing them against the people we breathe with How do we trust the living forms breathing without the flesh over the living we can touch and feel How do I trust the paper with my words and strangers with my smiles With every question I pen I end of writing hope, belief, ...

Meeting a boy

I ask mom can I go out with him, she says no in blocks caps and everything to make it loud enough So that I don't try to convince her I ask mom if I can go out with her As first like always she says no, but after 2 or 3 attempts She is fine with the plan I wonder what is the difference May be she thinks The she I would be hanging out with Won't hug me Or kiss me Or put her arms around my waist Or on the shoulders Or come close enough to increase my heart beat Or hold my hands and walk around Or bring me flowers and chocolates and gifts Or take me on a dinner date Or for lunch Or for a date just with a cup of tea and lots of eye to eye talking and so much of silence But we will be together all this while But aren't there chance of me falling for a girl But aren't there chance of the boy not liking me and just coming to say hi and a bye And everything in between it will be about the job and family we both are living with in those four walls...

Fears, are real!

All the fears are real People falling While walking While dancing While just standing still While looking at someone Failing In the exams With the expectations Of yours And your loved once And the strangers Growing In love Out of love Getting old With lessons With scars With open wounds Being stuck On page for hours and weeks In life for years and years With people till the end In thoughts of your own and the others too. With a blank full of ink but still not working Many others like People giving up on you People not fighting for you You not able to find the old you You missing yourself While you stand before the mirror With blank thoughts Like standing in a room On your own shadow Everyday at certain hour of the day All that you fear is happening is someday We just need to breathe through it Crying, yelling, laughing or just sitting through it Or just walking past it.

Blissfully inhaled and exhaled

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