A Figment Of Ur Imagination

As AbOvE,sO bElOw…As WiThIn,So WiThOuT…

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Your soul is a thunderstorm, caught amidst the chaos of raindrops, hitting my windowpane. 


Temporary Homes

//what it seemed like//

I feel vulnerable 

as i think about 

all the time I have

spent being

cocooned up in you,

you have been there,

standing,as I fed on

what seemed a lot 

like love,

you stripped my soul

naked, and looked

around until you

found all my insecurities

and threw them away,

one by one, but you

forgot how insecurities 

are just like 

worms, they come 

crawling right back,

and when they did,

you withered as they

started to bite you

in an attempt to

break those walls

you built to protect me.


//what it turned out to be//

I thought you would

and I saw you shudder

as the thoughts of 

protecting someone

damaged clouded 

your mind,

and I inflated

at the sight of

you shaking your head

as you slowly 

untangled yourself

from my being

and I was left there,

s t r i p p e d 

n a k e d.


I don’t think we ever shut

ourselves from the world 


We leave the doors of our heart unlatched, 

hoping that the perfect 

stranger would knock on it and 


You feel like home.

-I’ll be waiting. 

|yes, wishful thinking would be the death of me.|


Come to me naked

or don’t come to me at all. 

Leave your misery on 

for me to take care of. 

Drop the masks

of bravery and apathy 

you cover your skin with, 

outside my door. 

Come with three glasses

for you and I, 

and we will drink the odds together. 

Come to me naked 

or don’t come at all. 

2a.m. Conversations 

​I wish all the conversations were like the ones we have at 2a.m.,

when the world is quiet 

and our heartbeats loud.

I wish all the words we shared were as

honest and raw

as the ones that escape 

from our lips

during one night’s end

And one morning’s beginning.

Because it’s 2am

when our humanity 

tends to let its guard down,

And show through. 

It’s 2am when 

we let all of ourselves

be seen completely: Ugly and unafraid.

Beautiful and ready,

for love.

But mostly I just wish 

I had another 2am

To spend with you.

|of longing.|

Starry nights

Let’s climb to the roof, just us, bring blankets and we’ll lie down together and look up at the stars and whisper and laugh and forget about tomorrow for a while. 

Let’s talk about the little things. Like you can’t go on the roadtrip without mint in your mouth because you’ll get motion sickness. Or that at times you sleep with the  lights on.  Take me to the places you escape to when life s a bit overwhelming. To your sunsets. To your dreams. To your nightmares. 

|sundays are for cheesy things|

She loved humans, 

just the way she loved her hair and her mind:


|12am thoughts|

Ramblings of A Delirious Mind.

See. I’m weird, awkward and stupid.

I always have been.

I’m not your quintessential beauty, atleast the definition that the society has, anyway. I don’t have the most perfect of skin or the skinniest of legs. 

I prefer spending my time reading in a cafe than a pub.

The times I do hit the pub, I’m not there for the alcohol as much as I’m there for the dancing and the vibe. 

The best gifts you could possibly give me are chocolates and books. Or just a handwritten note.

I prefer writing over superficial talk and calling over texting.

I would rather walk than drive.

I prefer travelling without plans over a planned itinerary. Nothing beats impromptu trips.

I laugh loud, very loud. Unabashedly. with inappropriate noises which wouldn’t seem very decent to most.

I’m in love with forts, I like ruins more than I’d like being in beautiful places.

I’m raw and unruly. 

I’m not an open book. I open layer by layer, revealing my notes and anecdotes, my fears , my happiness with time, story by story. So if after the fist time we meet, you think you’ve me figured out. Let me make it clear for you, you don’t. 

I like sunny days and French windows.

I live for deep kisses, strange adventures,midnight swims and rambling conversations.

I prefer winter to summers and spring over anything . 

I’m an impulsive, reckless chick who takes risks at the cost of losing her comfort n well being.

I’ll take my time opening up to you. My initial one sentence replies will turn to a paragraph. Provided, you take the time to know me.

I’m not up for any kind of human interaction before I’ve had my customary mug of cold coffee in the morning. I’m inhuman without it.

I do not give up on people easily. I’ll do everything possible if I see a chance .So if I’m not making an effort any longer, ask yourself why.

I am not the girl who ll suck up to you, agree to every word that comes out of your mouth just so you stay. I’m not a people pleaser. I’m an opinionated person who loves healthy discussions.

My playlist is varied . Some of my music makes me want to cuddle for seven hours and some of my music makes me wish I did drugs in a motel room while wearing lingerie. 

I respect a man who is vocal. Tell me why you’re into me. Tell me why I pissed you off and how I can fix it. Tell me everything. Talk.

My idea of partying isn’t just limited to clubs and liquor. Partying for me can be binge watching and good food too! 

I can’t do small talk. It eats me up. You wanna talk, let’s really talk.

Call me at 3am and vent. I’ll listen.

I ll fall in love with your flaws. Not your perfection so show me the parts of you , you’re busy hiding.

I have never cared about the society. Or it’s innumerable rules.

I prefer baggy boyfriend tees to jeans and tight tops.

I don’t believe in “what if’s”. I will send that message . I will make that call. I will do that task instead of wondering about whether I should or shouldn’t. After all, what’s the worse than can happen? 

I prefer long conversations and long walks over one night stands.

And then once we’re past the initial few hours of being strangers, of half a day of awkwardness, the next half of the day, I would speak my heart to you, probably overwhelming the fuck out of you. 

I have a bad habit of saying exactly what I feel. 

I absolutely hate crowds.  for my own reasons. They scare me. It’s where my anxiety takes root from. 

I love how a person’s eyes just light up when they talk about something they’re so passionate about. Such energy. I hate how they apologise for it later. Like why? Go on, tell me more! What lights your fire?

I truly believe that house is anything with four walls. While, home is a person(s).

I’m carefree.  But also cutthroat. I do peaceful shit like meditate, but if necessary, I could absolutely regulate. 

I like honesty over a shared plate of spaghetti. 

I believe winters should arrive with someone who’d read a book to you as you prepare two cups of hot chocolate.

I have an entire collection of (never published, never will be published) things I’ve written about,  and some day,  I’m actually going to gift them to whoever  is silly enough to actually fall in love with me.

And if I ever find you reading my favourite book at a bookstore, I’ll end up paying for it anonymously. 

How a Woman Cures Her Heart. 

I looked at him with raised eyebrows and asked “You know how a woman cures her heart?” 

She will not sit down next to you and cry out loud to let you know that she is hurt. However, her mood can be cranky,  she might feel a bit low,  not be at her best behavior, eat less and howl more. 

Her days will pe painful eachtime she walks by the places she’d spent time at, with you. She will cringe, looking at  your pictures. And then she’ll delete them too.

She’ll be upset at random hours when she’s at work, her caffeine intake might drastically go up. But she won’t disintegrate into ash. 

Her night will end blinking back those tears,  listening to sad songs,  so she can let it all out. She might even choke, feel short of air, might stare at her phone screen for hours wondering whether to talk to you or not. 

That’s it.  She won’t rip herself into shreds. 

Finally the day comes,  she will not call you anymore, or reply to your texts. 

Her relenting passion towards you will die within a week or two. Instead of fuelling you will goodness and love, she’d feed herself with positivity. No more heavy hearts and smudged mascara. She will remain the imperfect masterpiece she is. She will be glad about her heartbreak and will recover.  After all the pain you’ve inflicted on her, it’ll only help her become strong. Your pain will be her benefit. 

And one day, you see her across the street. Giggling  and playing with her hair.  

You will realize, she wasn’t hurt.. She was disappointed and tired.