Being A Teenager Made Me Realize It Was Not My Fault. Every Blame They Put On Me Was Never Ever Mine.

i want to fall in love, all over again.

Hey, where are you from?

Hiii. I am from Jhapa, Nepal.

"You look awful without me." She whispered in his ear as his hand rushed along with her waist.

They were dancing. It was dark, vague dark. The only thing they could see were their eyes glistening by the reflection of moon.

"I want this night forever, just with you." He mumbled slowly.

"You have me." she said when his fingers were moving through her lips until he moved forward to feel them with his own.

It was their first kiss and it seems like that went great. They had booked a hotel room near the lake so even they forget their hotel location, they could find it by lake.

She was taking her clothes off. He was gazing at her body as if he is watching something so as valuable as souvenir. The temptation he had to resist to not feel the delicacy of her skin was so cruel. His eyes were restless.

"Don't stare." she said furiously.

"I serve art." He replied with a kiss on her forhead.

They were writing an epic on eachother's eyes.

"How can something be so pleasing and painful at the same time.?" She questioned with ocean in her eyes.

All their life, they were longing for intimacy, a companion, a partner, a friend. And now they have eachother but they couldn't figure out the situation. Why is it so hard to accept that you are really in love.?

"This must be my most genuine hug." He said knotting his arms around her.

They danced that whole night, screamed on Taylor Swift, wrote poems, cried, laughed, played, jumped. It counted on the list of their best nights.

he tortures me with his gaze, i am so stupid to fall for him.

-august/fictionflaws

The Letter to Nobody

Dearest,

It is cold today. After a week-long heat wave, the bay area has cooled down. It even rained the other day - what a treat!

The rain has clarified the skies. I didn’t know the blue of the Californian skies could be any bluer. But they could. They have: And they remind me of home.

I am inundated with assignments. I read most of the afternoons. I don’t remember my eyelids being tired this way. This tiredness is new to me, as are the golden sycamore leaves, the souvenirs of autumn. My first fall in the US, tired from reading stories all day long.

Fall.

Such a terse, poetic name for a weather.

You were startled by my admiration when I first admitted it to you. I suspect it struck you as incorrect. In a way, you were right.

Why should the spring buds admire the fall? Why should they indulge in the promise of death, decay, falling?

Fall. 

It is relaxing just to even pronounce it out loud. My muscles groan. In the distant skies, the clouds have thinned out into round patches that look like doily. I smile. I always wanted to learn crocheting. I know I never will. But I will look at doilies and I will look at doily-looking clouds and tell myself I wanted to learn crocheting. Why do I do this? Who am I lying? And I am not even lying. I would like to learn crocheting but only if life was a little longer than it is. I shift my gaze back to my screen. Words. I love them. 

Rustle. Why do I have to be distracted like this?

A swarm of desiccated sycamore leaves. It is cute that they always travel in a band. My windowsill is their nestling place. The specters of autumn. 

Is this a goodbye? Are you here to say goodbye? 

I say goodbye out loud. The leaves receive my idiocy with solemn indifference. 

Indifference. You pretended but you couldn’t be half as indifferent as these leaves. 

I never understood why you, with all your appetite for the unknown, should be threatened by the admiration. But admiration is threatening. In old french, it means to regard the person in awe.

It is threatening to be regarded with awe. What if we couldn’t live up to it? What if our existence contaminates someone’s pool of awe? Will we be able to live with so much guilt?

I understand you better now. Now that you are gone.

You indeed disappointed me. You faltered when it mattered the most. You betrayed my trust more than once.

Strangely enough, life is setting up a reverse drama for me. I have a far younger boy approach me with the admiration I had for you. And I feel burdened. I try to tell him that this is stupid. And it is. I know it is, because I have been stupid. But he persists. He brings me tea and chocolates.

I am waiting to break his heart. But that is the only way forward. Doesn’t mean I didn’t care for him. I want him to fly higher.

You are dead. Every day, life teaches me how/why to forgive you. I forgive you. One carelessness a day. You were also petty. Just like me. None of us can rise higher than our fears. At least, not all at once.

I forgave you this today - your suspicion of me. 

- bhushita

-August.

i kept the lock lose,

just for his presence.

maybe he would come,

for that i cut the fence.

he came with matches,

and stones on his hand.

he burned everything,

just left me a bare land.

i loved him all my life,

but he shattered me so.

i kept him above all,

never wanted him to go.

i was living all alone,

he left me like a past.

i never fell in love,

he was my ever and last.

"so where are you if not in my mind"

you were adding poison to each sip of my drink when i thought those were the alms keeping me extant.

you were the one stitching me up to push me in the mud when i was piercing myself with the thorns to bring you roses.

you where making me filth when i was wishing every night to the sky so you could have the lights and stars.

i always thought love was pain but love is more likely a way of contentment in grief because it makes you feel alive even tho' it is something that killed you.

"You deserve a lover who takes away the lies and brings you hope, coffee, and poetry."

~ Frida Kahlo