Missing what ?

Is it Missing-ness or just old habits ?

Ever thought what we exactly miss?

Like is it the feel of being kissed,

Or of sharing a bed,

Or is it the feel of

Sharing our lives instead ?

Is it the long drives,

Or the favorite singers,

Or the long walks

And those mingled fingers ?

Is it the smell of tea,

Or is it the honey toast,

Or just a gathering of friends

Where someone is being roast ?

Is it those bogus movies,

That you leave in between,

To figure out what to eat

Before the cuddling scenes ?

Or is it simply the idea of love,

As a person and a space,

Where you two developed

A different taste!

Loving Myself ! Wait, what ?

There are these days,

When I fall in love with myself,

And than those,

When I question everything about myself.

Moods, that keep changing,

Phases, that keep coming,

Friends, that keep holding,

And life,

That keeps moving.

Amidst this chaos,

Of laughter and cries,

I try to adore,

My own vies,

Of surviving and thriving,

With intent at times,

And with love the other times.

Falling in love with self,

Seemed tough in the beginning,

After truly figuring out myself,

Others look more accepting.

Comments

An intense grip!

Not having met you Never made me feel empty, But having met you Makes me feel weak, Not that I can't survive, But it's a struggle of not wanting to, A struggle of knowing All that should be known, And yet unable to Hold back from the unknown, A dying sense of urgency Although there is none in the vicinity, A profound feeling of having found A feeling so intense That it just couldn't be spent Even after exhausting every cent.

The rising

A tale of inspiration, building upright, from the gallows of darkness and kingdom of fight, A burning desire to give proof, of abiding strength and courage and coup, An inner whirlwind, rising and falling, like a sand dune with its crests and troughs, magically building the foundation of faith and truth, Its outcome will be a proof in time of all things worthy and filled with chime.

A Rebel ?

A rebel is what you call, A fighter is what I prefer, The most important thing of all Is that the qualities don't differ, To stand for what I believe, To look at people leave, It does break my heart for a while But more than that it brings about a smile, For it exposes the real ones And the cruel ones, And along it brings enlightenment to my soul, And peace to my mind, To be able to find A part of me in all, To be alive and willing, To be thoughtful and thinking, To be educated and building, To be sensible and helping, Life is a game Battlefield, if you will, To come out alive Is the mildest of will, Injuries do pain, But can never over-power the gain, I wish this human race Condemned the norms And started off believing In possibilities and forms.

Girlishly

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