Chocolates, Lays or Beer?

Front of my eyes are columns with independent rows
Stacked with different colours
And smells locked inside
Eagerly awaiting for hands to grab them
So that the smell can get into their nose a bit and much in the air
For others to know of their existence
Anyways finding for things my stomach is crying for and my eyes are looking for and my taste buds are craving for
My eyes hang up on something else
Rather someone
A boy
What else a girl priorities above food and self
Running along the columns
And staring at the rows to find his stuff

Freezed air
Freezed food stuffs
Freezed perfume
Freezed sweets
Freezed chocolates
Freezed duppatas
That have more love stories than me
And rest girls around me
The papers freezed
The pens freezed
In the cold breathes of the AC
But their I stand sweating
Adoring him
For the word, hot sounds a cliche to me in all occasions
But seeing him, I blurt it out to my mind "hot!"

I run in other column
To avoid the embracement
But guess what
We bump into each other
Besides is the row of hide and seek biscuits
Where I fail to hide but he succeeds in seeking me
I smrike
He smiles
I increase my pace to reach the end of the column to escape
And he too walks his column
But as I reach the end of the column
Puph!
I turn my head around for his face
I roll my eyes all over the place
But no eyes smiliar to his found

At the cash counter
I stand with a dancing stomach and happy tastes bud
And a broken smile
For the AC inhaled my boy.
I signal to the counter boy to remove the thing on my left
And the counter boy questions,
"What mam? Chocolate? Lays or Beer?"

The sad heart says Beer
The witty mind says chocolate
For new will be found
As there are years to count
The tongue says lays
And I leave grabbing the deo
Which smells like him
Leaving all of the rest

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

Search This Blog