Sunday, 29 January 2012

Dream a dream

What if you were dreaming someone else's dream?
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Dreams are not simply seen only when sleeping. You see them all the time, more or less. Crazy, crazy things. Sometimes they are seen when awake - what one calls as daydreaming. And sometimes they are felt, experienced. Lived.

These are the dreams where the eyes are not closed. Its a whirlwind feeling, a rush to the head, too much giddy happiness which goes to the head. Like a roller coaster ride.

It feels so real, because in that moment, it is all happening. Facts and fiction mix together, and make it happen. So tangible.

Real, real.

And just like that, it ends. Without warning, without conclusion even. So abrupt.

What is left is fragments of fleeting moments, the reality that never came to be, and a prayer.

May the next dream be sweeter.















Thursday, 19 January 2012

Of friends and acquaintances

"So, are you friends now?"

"Acquaintances. " Comes her answer.

"You are kidding me! I saw you two talking the other day. "

"So?" Her eyes flutter, long lashes nearly casting a shadow on pale cheeks.

"I thought you guys had bounced back or something."

It is met with her silence.

"I mean, it looked good there..."

Her eyes flutter shut. It probably did. Great couple. So cute together! So happy for you. Well wishers. Voices unneeded now.

They had always looked good together, she figured, even when just standing next to each other and being amiable.

She tucks a strand of brown behind her ear, "Its not like that. " Its hardly so simple. So easy.

"Do you hate him?"

"No."

"Do you love him then?"
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"No... " The answer comes after a wait, longer, in a voice, softer. "We are just... talking. " Just awkward greetings upon bumping into each other. Small chit chat. That is hardly friendship in her books. She smiles wryly, "What are friends anyway?"

"Uhh, lemme check. It says, a person whom one knows and with whom one has a bond of mutual affection, typically exclusive of sexual or family relations."

She rolls her eyes, "Forget I asked..." She hadn't intended for the literal use of the cell phone's browsing facilities. It was a rhetorical question.

"Then let me look up acquaintances. A person one knows slightly, but who is not a close friend. "

"Oh shut it. " she sighs.

"You guys can't be acquaintances."

"We can't be friends. " She murmurs.

"So what are you?"

Just two people who got too close to each other and drifted apart too quickly.

She does not oblige with an answer.


Sunday, 15 January 2012

Wish

Want it but don't wish for it. Wish it but don't want it.

Tiny wishes, she collects them and keeps them in a silver box. Precious, precious wishes. Each wish is a light feather. If she suddenly opens the box, they'll fly with the wind, and be lost forever. That is why she decides she'll never open the box.

It is kept locked, locked. That all too important lock on that all too important box.

She wonders why none of them come true. 

Saturday, 14 January 2012

Games

'Its a game.' She whispers.

'Do you want to play it?'

'No...'

'So why are you playing it?'

'Because I can't stop!' Its much more than a whisper now.

'Why not?'

She doesn't answer.

'Its easy.' It should be. You just don't have to play, the answer is simple enough.

'You are wrong.' She sighs. 'If it was so easy...'

'You ' A puff of smoke, goes up, and then another, '...don't want to.' Stop.

Her eyes widen, 'That's a lie...' She plays because she has to, not because she wants to.

'Then...' Ashes fall to the floor, cold from the descent.

'Then?' Her voice is all innocence, the curiosity of a child.

'Why are you so good at it?' the cigarette is extinguished.

She has no answer. What possibly comes close to it is an upturned curve of rosy lips.

The game is up.

Friday, 13 January 2012

Hands

What do your hands say?
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A big hand, with long fingers, slightly clammy, she thought when she held his hand for the first time. Bitten nails which gave away a possible nervous demeanor, a habit which got him some chiding; his hand might have spoken more than he did.

Not that he wasn't a talker - that he was. His hands just told more things.

A tight grip, a friendly tug on the cheek, fingers interlocking, they all spoke.

Today, she forgot who held the hand first. Her hand slips away, he catches it. Silence, the occasional words, and more silence. On a dull evening, with nothing out of the ordinary, they walk, hand in hand.

His hand slips away once, twice. Her fingers find it back. The third time that it slips, they don't. The destination approaches. His hand finds hers again and squeezes. 


Instead of speaking, they seem to be screaming; the conversation is almost too much to keep up with. 

The destination arrives, palms rub together as her slips away for the last time, fingers having the last say as the touch dies

An imprint of their hand is left on each others. The conversation is over.

And the bits and pieces that she could put together tell her that they would probably not be holding hands again.



Wednesday, 4 January 2012

Spellbound

Its like... the spell has been broken.
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She tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

The setting is familiar. The place is similar, if not the same to what she is used to. The person is, most definitely the same.

He smiles. She smiles back.

Her body is racked with a thousand shivers. No, not quite shivers ( and probably not a thousand of them either). More like palpitations?

/Heart, calm down./

"How are you?"

"I'm well..." she answers. A pause lingers, "How about you?" it has to be broken.

"Yeah, I'm good. Um, so much coming up ..." Small talk. The words don't really hold so much meaning. His voice, it does but, the feeling...

/Its not the same./

The palpitations keep on rising and subduing in a rhythm of their own.

"That's great. Good luck. See you around. " She flashes another bright smile.

/A little too bright maybe./

Off she goes.

The spell has, indeed, been broken.