It's not you. And I mean it.

My body cringes

When your fingers touch my arm,

When you run them along the length,

When you kiss my fingers

And bite them too.

You pull me close, whisper in my ears

There’s no other place I’d rather be

You look into my eyes,

Let us dance to the melody of Himeros

With every kiss, my lips smile

When you reach my neck,

My arms follow

Your touch is sweet,

And you caress my waist

A kiss on the neck,

Chin. Cheek. Nose. Lips. Tongue.

Legs around your waist, my hands find support around your neck

Head rests on the shoulder while you touch every part of me.

My lust consumes me,

Probably more than it should.

But how do I tell you,

That it's not you

Whose touch I crave.

the Devil in me

Every coin has two sides. And this is the devil side of me.
A side that every one has but no one has the guts to accept. A sin, no one wants to take responsibility for.

If I ever write my own story, it'll start like this -
"Once upon a time, a girl found out that she turned out to be a wrong person"

There possibly might not be anything that's good about me. I'm selfish, and yes I never deny that fact.
I'm arrogant. You can't just piss me off and expect me to treat you like honeycomb.
My modesty is overshadowed by my facial expressions that usually suggest that I'm showing attitude towards you.
Well honestly, your face isn't exactly what I wish to see for long. So don't be surprised if I choose to look at the ground or anywhere else in the air while talking to you.
I'm not here to please you, so don't even get the vague idea that I'm trying to impress you by bragging or lying about anything.
I'm an adult lady. Yes I get horny. And I don't make efforts to hide it or cover it. No one is a kid here and hypocrisy is not my thing.
I care about anyone and everyone, only because of the values instilled in me by my parents, not because you are very dear to me.
I am a woman of words. Unless I say anything out loud, I don't mean it. So don't even dare to think I love you if I have never said it. Chances are, I'll never say it too.
I might talk to you day and night, but no, I won't end up feeling for you. If I can not feel for you after talking so much, then you can also do the same.
Yes, a lot of guys have asked me out. They might want me for all the good or the bad reasons. But hey, there are no bad reasons. So they want me for my body. That's something to be proud of, not ashamed of. Just because they want it, doesn't mean they get it.
After all, talking to every other guy or lusting over them doesn't make a girl a whore, sleeping with everyone does.
For those who love me for my mind, very frankly, I don't get it. You people don't know me. You cannot know a person in a few months. You cannot take the worst of me. What makes you think that you love me for my mind?
Nevertheless, I still respect your feelings. It's not easy to feel for someone and to reason with it, so I won't ask for reasons. So thank you for giving a piece your heart and mind to me.
But don't get so worked up that I've had a lot of guys to ask me out and never say yes. I don't say a yes not because I'm very proud or anything, I don't say a yes because I don't feel for you, simple as that. And it won't be fair on my part if I know that you feel for me but I don't and still decide to go out with you.
I do fantasize. I do wanna smash a girl's head only because she irritates me with her high pitched voice. I do wanna spill food on a better dressed girl because she gets to look hotter than I do. I am jealous of pretty girls. Or girls without acne, with perfect hair.
I am egoistic. Very. You cannot target my self respect and expect me to not react.
My self respect is above any of you.

I might be the most arrogant bitch in the whole world, but I'm not a liar. Whatever I am, I accept.
Honesty goes a long way with me. Be a liar, be arrogant, be a pervert. But if you're honest, you are still tolerable.

Hate me all you want. And fathom the immensity of fuck I do not give.

- Girl you 'should' be afraid your parents will meet.

Can't Sleep It Off :|

Selfish.

Mean.

Liar.

Think only about yourself.

Pretend.

Few words you would never expect to hear from a few people. But when you do, everything seems to fall apart.

Anger subsides, you get over the sadness, but when you get hurt and hurt that bad, it’s not at all easy to push it at the back of your mind, let alone forget about it or not think of it.

And even after all this; you still can’t get yourself to hate those people. You can’t even think ill of them. You start thinking that they might be as miserable as you are, they might also be going through hell thinking what all you might have said. As a result you start doubting yourself and your self respect takes a downtrip to hell.

Have you spent crying yourself to sleep because of me? Have you blamed yourself over and over again? Have you thought of anything about how miserable I am? Have you thought how am coping with my problems all alone because you asked me to deal with them myself? I guess not.

Then you start to think that even if you said the bad things, you did apologize and they were nowhere near to what you got to hear in return. Also, even if you did say equally bad things, you did apologize. But the apology never came from the other side. Had it come, you wouldn’t have missed if even if it was not genuine, because in between all the crap, you were just looking out for one apology to make yourself believe that you’re not making a complete fool out of you.

Everything was so much easier when you didn’t want anyone by your side, you didn’t want anybody to hug you and stay with you while you cried thinking about your fears or insecurities.

Maybe it should stay that way – without the willingness to share anything with anybody or get anyone’s hug.

Life is cruel at times, after all.

The Banyan Tree

Everyday, every few hours, I heard a new story – a story of love, sorrow, deception, hatred, life, marriage, divorce, lust, etc. Mostly, they were the sad ones, by people who had the violent urge to narrate their stories, their feelings, and their expectations. It gave me immense happiness, to know I was offering to them more than I had to offer. They took shelter in me, in my silence to utter their own words.

Their stories shouted, with grave silence, narrations of the sufferings they had gone through. Their tears washed away with them the pain their little heart beheld. And I heard with patience.

They would sit down in front of me, peacefully and carry on with their work – eating, resting, and other petty things to do and narrate their tales. They touched the roots of my heart, their tales.

Sad ones were many, mostly rather. People loved to grieve, I used to wonder. Until, one day, I heard a tale of a young girl. She told the story with such innocence that I doubt she understood the immensity of love her story possessed.

She came towards me, walking with slow steps, looking at the ground and sat beside me. After being quiet and playing with the mud for sometime, she broke the silence. She said, “But why? Why should father do that? Maybe I shouldn’t complain so much. He has too much to do and worry about already. Hmm. Oh, I can ask big brother to get it for me. But only father can provide the money. But it’s sad. I want it. It was so beautiful and everyone in class will have it soon. I want it before they do. But again, father stays so tense all the time. He scolds me too, for no reason sometimes. You know Bannu, I cry in nights because father shouts at me. He even hits me at times. But I know he does that only because he’s upset and my acts hurt him more. He stays worried; the frown lines are always visible on his forehead. He has a lot of work to do and a lot many things to take care of. I am also a kid though, I too get hurt. Its okay, I guess. I know father loves me the most, more than big brother too.”

She started playing with her hair.

After few minutes, she continued again, “or, I can ask Reena aunt to give me some work and in return, I’ll ask her to buy that beautiful Barbie doll to me. That way, papa won’t have to spend a lot of money on me and he wouldn’t have to worry. He works so hard and if I get the Barbie myself, he’ll be happy. And in the next grade, 5^th , I’ll have the best one with me.”

She got up, smiled cheerfully and hugged me. And went back happily jumping on her toes.

The purity in her eyes and her love for her father, made me realize that in this world of sorrows where people only like to share their pain, there are innocent ones like her who unknowingly spread happiness around.

Who am I? I am Bannu, the Banyan Tree.