The words flow out of your thin, wet lips,
While feeling as if the words had a much greater meaning
Than it once had before when you and I were together.
I sit and think to myself what a painful mistake I have made
To ever let you go from my side in the cruel way I did
And how much you and I were truly meant to be.
Knowing that by your side I am destined to be for the rest of my life,
Allowing my feelings to freely flow out into the atmosphere
And to you dedicate every second of my complicated life.
To show you the feelings I never before allowed out of me
Now had I ever express to you nor to anyone else.
That by simply saying I Love You Babe I could then
Put a beautiful, wide smile on your angel-like face.
To hold you tightly inside my arms all night long,
Without having anything in mind but how lucky I am
As to having you as my lover and to have you by my side tonight.
When the world no longer exist for you and I
And in which only you and I is all that matters.
How I wish I once again had you by my side
To now show you how much I truly love you,
To prove to you that you are my one true love,
And to show you how much I care for you.
To be able to grab your delicate hand and while pressing my lips against them softly
As I look once again into your gleaming eyes to tell you
How much I do love you and that I would never leave you for anyone.
Hold you then against my body as tears slow down
And to you I express how much I miss you babe,
How sorry I deeply am for letting you go
And for never before assuring to you that for no one
In this entire world would I change you for.
Baby, you dont know how much I miss you,
Monday, February 20, 2012
Love or something like that
Once upon a time there lived a princess in far away castle and waited for her prince charming with fluttering eyelashes and open arms.her knight in shinning armor .
Aaaa does this look like a fairytale Naaa
This is a story of of Journey , journey that has just begun. Begun to dreams but rooted in reality. This story is not a fairy tale it's a metamorphosis of a living into life,of change of a individual into a couple. A story of a miss to a mrs.
In life we look around for love, for a compatibly, comfort, chemistry and oodles of biology. But what I was looking for was simple friendship . A friendship enveloped in love.
Life is intertwined in intricacies of relationships.some tied by blood and some by emotions. But then there is one which is bigger than all and creates father entanglement than all of the above. That relationship is bigger than that with yourself. A relationship of a husband and a wife. Two strangers joined by fate in presence of family and friends.
In the course of all this I couldn't help but wonder are we meant to be with only one person thru out our life spans. In this world where "yeh dil maange Moore". Where everything comes with a expiration date even love, how does one keep up with the Jones and have the happily ever after. So what is this happily ever after a myth or a torture device.
The whole concept of love, a concept so engraved in our vey being that it takes all you have. But what if you realize this concept to be just a farce , a mask to the reality of
Connivence, a connivence far away from the whole pink shade glasses,of the tantalizing love.
U tied a tag around my neck. It's me the wife in making. Choking out of breath and clinging on to the last leaves of freedom.Like a tree clings on to the last leaves before autumn, just before the final strike. Game over.
Aaaa does this look like a fairytale Naaa
This is a story of of Journey , journey that has just begun. Begun to dreams but rooted in reality. This story is not a fairy tale it's a metamorphosis of a living into life,of change of a individual into a couple. A story of a miss to a mrs.
In life we look around for love, for a compatibly, comfort, chemistry and oodles of biology. But what I was looking for was simple friendship . A friendship enveloped in love.
Life is intertwined in intricacies of relationships.some tied by blood and some by emotions. But then there is one which is bigger than all and creates father entanglement than all of the above. That relationship is bigger than that with yourself. A relationship of a husband and a wife. Two strangers joined by fate in presence of family and friends.
In the course of all this I couldn't help but wonder are we meant to be with only one person thru out our life spans. In this world where "yeh dil maange Moore". Where everything comes with a expiration date even love, how does one keep up with the Jones and have the happily ever after. So what is this happily ever after a myth or a torture device.
The whole concept of love, a concept so engraved in our vey being that it takes all you have. But what if you realize this concept to be just a farce , a mask to the reality of
Connivence, a connivence far away from the whole pink shade glasses,of the tantalizing love.
U tied a tag around my neck. It's me the wife in making. Choking out of breath and clinging on to the last leaves of freedom.Like a tree clings on to the last leaves before autumn, just before the final strike. Game over.
What did u expect
>You came into my life
As quickly as you left.
You grabbed a cutting knife
And sliced right through my breast.
You didn't mean to hurt
But what did you expect?
My heart now cut in two
It feels beyond repair.
Injury done by you
God, life just isn't fair.
You didn't mean to hurt
But what did you expect?
So here we are, just friends,
But I long to be more.
Desire with no end
Throbbing from my core.
You didn't mean to hurt
But what did you expect?
As quickly as you left.
You grabbed a cutting knife
And sliced right through my breast.
You didn't mean to hurt
But what did you expect?
My heart now cut in two
It feels beyond repair.
Injury done by you
God, life just isn't fair.
You didn't mean to hurt
But what did you expect?
So here we are, just friends,
But I long to be more.
Desire with no end
Throbbing from my core.
You didn't mean to hurt
But what did you expect?
Inside I die
I see the stars sparkling so bright,
Within the moon kissed sky.
I hear the lark so sweetly sing,
Amidst the morning dawn.
I smell the flower full in bloom,
And see their royal pomp.
And yet some place so deep within,
I'm shrouded and I'm closed.
The brilliance there I can't see,
In mists of misery.
Enshrined inside, unable thus,
To touch the warmth without.
I gaze upon this passion spent,
And yet . . . Inside I die.
Within the moon kissed sky.
I hear the lark so sweetly sing,
Amidst the morning dawn.
I smell the flower full in bloom,
And see their royal pomp.
And yet some place so deep within,
I'm shrouded and I'm closed.
The brilliance there I can't see,
In mists of misery.
Enshrined inside, unable thus,
To touch the warmth without.
I gaze upon this passion spent,
And yet . . . Inside I die.
Marriage material
A real woman always keeps her house clean and organized, the laundry basket is always empty. She’s always well dressed, hair done. She never swears and behaves gracefully in all situations and under all circumstances. She has more than enough patience to take care of her family, always has a smile on her lips, and a kind word for everyone. I am beginning to suspect that I may be a man.
This is a post that I imagine has been doing the Facebook rounds for quite some time now. And as usual, I am behind the times, as I hadn’t seen it before today. I laughed quietly to myself at the irony as I read it through, and then out loud when I reached the last sentence. If this is the sort of iconic fifties era woman I should aspire to be, I don’t have a chance. Not even in hell.
I would rather smother my boys in kisses, or relish their gleeful laughter as they roll down a grass-covered hill, or listen to their enthusiastic whoops of joy as they stomp in a mud puddle, than to worry about what our roughhousing is doing to my hair, or the stains on their clothes, or the dirt they will inevitably track through the house.
Once or twice my bare feet may have stuck to the terracotta tile of our kitchen floor, and I’ve just sighed, shrugged my shoulders, and moved on. My laundry basket can’t even be seen for the clean laundry overflowing, cascading, and piling around it. I can’t ever seem to get it put away faster than it comes out of the dryer. If it’s raining (which it usually is), and there’s no place we need to be, and nothing we need to do, I’ll joyfully declare a pajama day for all. More than likely my hair is a mess. I’ve been known to lose my patience and mumble a curse word or two under my breath. Okay, maybe three or four, and it’s likely I wasn’t smiling kindly at the time, either. So maybe I’m not a real woman. Or maybe I am.
Let’s just say I wouldn’t consider me marriage material, and leave it at that.
This is a post that I imagine has been doing the Facebook rounds for quite some time now. And as usual, I am behind the times, as I hadn’t seen it before today. I laughed quietly to myself at the irony as I read it through, and then out loud when I reached the last sentence. If this is the sort of iconic fifties era woman I should aspire to be, I don’t have a chance. Not even in hell.
I would rather smother my boys in kisses, or relish their gleeful laughter as they roll down a grass-covered hill, or listen to their enthusiastic whoops of joy as they stomp in a mud puddle, than to worry about what our roughhousing is doing to my hair, or the stains on their clothes, or the dirt they will inevitably track through the house.
Once or twice my bare feet may have stuck to the terracotta tile of our kitchen floor, and I’ve just sighed, shrugged my shoulders, and moved on. My laundry basket can’t even be seen for the clean laundry overflowing, cascading, and piling around it. I can’t ever seem to get it put away faster than it comes out of the dryer. If it’s raining (which it usually is), and there’s no place we need to be, and nothing we need to do, I’ll joyfully declare a pajama day for all. More than likely my hair is a mess. I’ve been known to lose my patience and mumble a curse word or two under my breath. Okay, maybe three or four, and it’s likely I wasn’t smiling kindly at the time, either. So maybe I’m not a real woman. Or maybe I am.
Let’s just say I wouldn’t consider me marriage material, and leave it at that.
Bye bye love
Our relationship started out so steamy — all hearts aflutter and short of breath. So hot and sweaty, with racing pulse and and soaring hopes. In the beginning, I fully believed we would be together forever, that our relationship would only grow stronger with time. And yet, anyone who knows me could see the writing on the wall. Long before I ever did, anyway.
As time went on, that all-consuming excitement that comes with new relationships began to ebb. Slowly, the allure, the anticipation of time spent together, the angst felt when apart, all began to fade. Soon, nagging, nit-picking, and ultimate resentment all found their way into my heart. Things were not all peachy keen, and I found myself looking for excuses to stay away.
Eventually, my guilt would get the better of me, and I would vow to do better, to re-commit. And I would. For a day, maybe two. But my heart was never in it. My head tried to reason, but even the best laid plans and the most convincing of arguments for staying together seemed no match for my indifference. Many of you know the ongoing struggle I’ve had. You’ve witnessed the roller coaster of emotions, and listened to me as I tried to talk myself into loving this relationship again. But when it all comes down to it, should love really be so much work?
The other day, I found my mind wandering to dreams of other relationships. I was imagining long walks along the lake, or even the river. I saw me stopping to smell the roses, and feeling that electrifying high of something new. And then, when I went so far as to consider joining a gym, I knew it was finally over, once and for all.
Today, as I watched my husband struggle to make the bed of a pick-up truck, I knew for sure I had made the right decision. And it was reassuring to know that he also felt it to be best. Saying goodbye to something so stationary and stagnant was the right thing to do. He joined me on the porch, took my hand, and together, we watched that bike head off down the drive, and fade slowly from sight. And I felt lighter than I have in a long, long time. Except, of course, for that heavy wad of cash weighting my pocket.
As time went on, that all-consuming excitement that comes with new relationships began to ebb. Slowly, the allure, the anticipation of time spent together, the angst felt when apart, all began to fade. Soon, nagging, nit-picking, and ultimate resentment all found their way into my heart. Things were not all peachy keen, and I found myself looking for excuses to stay away.
Eventually, my guilt would get the better of me, and I would vow to do better, to re-commit. And I would. For a day, maybe two. But my heart was never in it. My head tried to reason, but even the best laid plans and the most convincing of arguments for staying together seemed no match for my indifference. Many of you know the ongoing struggle I’ve had. You’ve witnessed the roller coaster of emotions, and listened to me as I tried to talk myself into loving this relationship again. But when it all comes down to it, should love really be so much work?
The other day, I found my mind wandering to dreams of other relationships. I was imagining long walks along the lake, or even the river. I saw me stopping to smell the roses, and feeling that electrifying high of something new. And then, when I went so far as to consider joining a gym, I knew it was finally over, once and for all.
Today, as I watched my husband struggle to make the bed of a pick-up truck, I knew for sure I had made the right decision. And it was reassuring to know that he also felt it to be best. Saying goodbye to something so stationary and stagnant was the right thing to do. He joined me on the porch, took my hand, and together, we watched that bike head off down the drive, and fade slowly from sight. And I felt lighter than I have in a long, long time. Except, of course, for that heavy wad of cash weighting my pocket.
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