Let it be..

Let the old love be,

Don’t walk through moments, don’t only it them,

Don’t look through old pictures, to find new meanings,

Don’t look at the universe, willing it to give you new clues,

Let the old love be.

Leave it and walk into your life.

That which was, can’t be changed, touched..

That which was can’t be your Tomorrow..

That which was has served its purpose in your life.

Now. Just walk into your life.

Image: GoogleImages


Perfect Stories

That gruesome scar on his face,

Suddenly becomes so much more desirable when you come to know that he got burnt trying to save a child,

Those chipped front teeth

You find funnier when she tells you she fell on her face drunk dancing,

That hideous wristband on someone

Becomes much more than a rubbery stretchy thing, when you get to know it was of their child

Who succumbed to terminal illness.

When you know the stories behind imperfections,

Why do they seem perfect?

What if the gruesome scar was a birth mark,

Or the chipped front teeth just the way they grew,

Or the wristband, just a wristband.

We would judge them differently, is it not?

If stories make it easy to accept, find the story.

Sometimes not having a story, is also a story.

Pick effort. Pick yourself.

What takes effort is love








Hate, are easy.

It’s super easy to do the easy thing.

We stick to the hard things as long as they are easy.

The moment it gets tough, you ask – is this worth it?

That point, precisely then is the tipping point.

If you decide to stay, stay.

Be in it with all abandon.

Pick the difficult route,

It’s got the best sceneries

It’s got the best experiences

And it makes you you.

Disproportionately YOURS..

You have all my pics

Even the ones that I am tempted to hide

I don’t know why you collect mine!

You can see the dark circles

The double chin

The open pores

The growing eyebrows

The smudged Kajal

And you ask for close ups!

Then you say “Wow”!

I can’t find anything wow like there, but you can.

Maybe it’s just how you look at me

Maybe it’s just your eyes

I do find myself pretty

But never thought someone else would too

I am confident enough to know what to wear and how to carry them

But never thought someone would get my style too

Is this what you mean when you say “I love you”?

Or is this just another one of those things that make you you.

And then there’s this warm fuzzy feeling that I feel when I think of you

That threatens to overpower all reason and logic

Your tiny jibes hurt me so bad! It’s so disproportionate that it’s not fair to both you and I

And your little bit of love, leaves me breathless

Is this love? This disproportionate impact?

And then

You finally call me and say

Why the fuck weren’t you answering your phone

And then immediately calm down when I say i was talking to mom

This disproportionate insecurity that you feel, is this love?

Are you afraid that “I” will never call you back?

I want to tell you,

That in this,

You have all the power.

But then the power of love is what I am counting on.

I think I am falling in love.

Image: Pinterest