saumoshri

|| URANOPHILE || || HORATIAN SATIRIST || || AESTHETE ||

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  • saumoshri 6w

    She wants everyone to excuse her mess of thoughts but she wants someone to go and tell this boy that he's unintentionally playing with her heart! Someone tell this boy to get out of her head, it's not where he belongs to, he's got poison on his lips because every night when he wishes her good night, her brain forbids her to sleep and keeps thinking about the sound of his laugh until she can hear the birds singing outside her window. Yet there's something so comforting about his smile, every single one of his smile is a constant reminder of why she fell for him. There's something so supportive and gentle about the way he treats her, it makes her head dizzy sometimes. Her codependency tendencies have been propping their heads up to see what he looks like. Her subconscious though tells them to back off, it wants to stand in the way of her heart and yet another possible heart-break. She thinks about the life they could have had constantly, she wishes this feeling of longing for something she can never have wasn't so paralyzing. She keeps checking her phone in class to see if she have any texts from him, one slight change of tone that her brain manages to decipher from his texts and she's thinking of every horrible thing that is never going to happen. She wonders if he's going to be gentle with her when tells her that he found someone new and how his voice would sound in person. What would it be like to have him, knowing that he's eventually leaving? She knows it sounds like a make-believe mess but it was all real for her. This boy that she's speaking of has no idea but he makes her heart want to explode. Explode with love, fury and helplessness.

    ~Saumoshri

  • saumoshri 10w

    She never found love in the overpriced cappuccinos of CCD. She found it in the first sip of cold coffee in excruciating hot summer afternoons. She didn't found love when Ellie Goulding sang 'Love me like you do', she found it when Monali Thakur sang 'Tu hoga zara pagal tune mujhko hai chuna'. She never found love in the 'can't find flaws even if you wanted' Instagram photos. She always found it when she saw him first in the morning as he unknowingly stared out of the window sitting there in his true skin, bare, rusty and messy curly hair, in his comfy clothes having the black coffee, toast and omlette she just made for him. She always found it right around their dinning room as sometimes she caught him playing one of her favorite piano note 'Dream A Little Dream Of Me' from Yiruma's 2nd Album "First Love" or sometimes when she caught a glimpse of him around their breakfast table going through his patients medical records and swinging his legs under the table and humming 'L-O-V-E' by Nat King Cole without a worry in the world.

    ~Saumoshri

  • saumoshri 11w

    Her eyes are beautiful, painted with a foxy liner, mascara added on her lashes just to make it more dramatic. But if you look deep into them you'll see a thousand years of war that is yet not finished. An wanderer still searching for her forever home. A betrayal that still stinks bad. And yet, after all these incidents her smile will fool you to believe in fairytales, make you believe that all the miracles of this universe are hidden behind her enticingly curved lips.
    She's the woman of her own dreams. For she knows tragedy never happens to those who cannot feel. There's a thing with her, she tends to think deep, she can't stop herself from going beyond the ordinary. She believes that fortune would still do her mercy, and believes that the heart that is broken can still be beautiful. For her, the hope still breathes even after darkest of nights.
    You can see faith in her eyes, you can see a warrior who fought a thousands of battles and who's still not ready to give up. "Broken things can never be fixed", she never lets this fool her. Because she knows, the broken pieces can always be attached with golden linings and it can become one of the most mesmerizing things that the world has ever witnessed.

    ~Saumoshri

  • saumoshri 11w

    There is a certain way he calls out my name that seems to linger a little bit more than necessary on his lips, when he tells me about his dreams while lying down beside me, drenched in sweat, smoking the last puff of cigarette. He tells me about the event that he attended when he was 17 and how it inspired him to to take a risk and work his ass off just to achieve something, and how that makes him see dreams with his eyes wide open every night since last ten years.
    There is a way his forehead wrinkles when he talks about the hurdles he faced. He talks about how a boy of 17 walked on the zigzag roads of life barefoot, which now led him to be a successful man of 26. Leaving the comfort of life to face the scorching sun outside, fighting through the mud and dust, he says he never wanted it easy.
    There is a certain way his eyes sparkle when he tells me about the things he loves. Be it the supernatural and detective web series of Netflix or the Margherita with olive toppings, the twinkling of his eyes remains the same, glittering out of excitement. And there is a certain way he moves his gaze immediately with utter ignorance when the topic holds no interest for him. This is the thing about him, he is either too obsessed or he doesn't care at all.
    There is a certain way he kisses me, that connects us through a thin thread of saliva when we leave, thirsty for water, and trying to catch our breath. The way he holds me tight in his arms everytime we meet like a little kid of 5 who hugs his mother a little too tightly when a scary nightmare wakes him up in the middle of the night.
    And every single time I successfully steal a memorable and sweet moment from the universe with him, I stare. I stare at his eyes and wonder of writing poetries about his every scar. Because his eyes are and will always be my muse for the rest of my life.
    ~Saumoshri

  • saumoshri 11w

    They say the world is a cocoon of tragedy and pain and love is the one dandelion in a field of bloodlust shrubs. Oh! trust me being in love is like levitating in the clouds, and then all of a sudden I felt myself descending back to the pitiful reason of existence, our world. I loved you the way they describe in songs, movies and books, I loved you like I write. I always thought no matter what rock I tumble upon, you'll pick me in your arms and kiss my wounds, but now all you're doing is giving me the tip of your little finger to stand back up on my feet. I tried, I really tried my best. Every kiss, every embrace, every fight. I didn't want to accept that we were falling apart, that we were destined to not be what I so desperately wanted. I loved you, I loved you so much. Did you love me? Did you love me just as much as I loved you? Maybe if I tried a little more harder.. Maybe I did this... Maybe if I did that.. Maybe.. Maybe... Maybe I could've made you stay. But love I'll always love you. I'd always wish that we were in love and not just love the die for each other kind, the forever and ever kind. But then again fate is a jealous mistress, it burns almost anything seemingly pure and our love was the purest of all. Maybe our love wasn't destined to be the one that was written in the stars.
    ~Saumoshri

  • saumoshri 12w

    She doesn't remember their first kiss anymore, she doesn't remember how his arms covered her all around tightly, close to him out of the fear of losing her. She doesn't remember that whiskey never made him get on her nerves like old monk mixed with coke did, she doesn't remember his crawling fingers, careless playing with the edges of her body while making love. She doesn't remember his voice shivering like hell at middle of the night when he said "I love you" to her. She doesn't remember the fragrance of VILLAIN classic that she gifted him on his last birthday, mixed with the smell of cigarette that used to drive her crazy everytime they met. She doesn't remember the mornings that she got up and saw him innocently sleeping beside her, holding her tightly under the duvet. She doesn't remember the expression of his when he forgot her birthday and how he made a poker face in front of her and did fifteen ups and downs, while holding his ears and how that made both of them laugh till their stomachs hurt. She doesn't remember the fluffy jacket of his that used to give her comfort on the winter days in his place. She doesn't remember any of these, trust her. She doesn't remember him anymore.
    But her pen, being the disobedient friend of her, couldn't stop writing about him. Probably the fact of being the lover of a writer is, no matter how badly the lover wants to die, the lover will always end up living forever.

    ~Saumoshri

  • saumoshri 12w

    He comes to me in darkness
    and rises from my cigarettes
    in a domineering masculine form
    from the clouded black smoke
    there's my favorite hands and fingers
    then the well defined shoulders and torso, all along.
    I see him, under the red neon CFL
    half asleep and half awake
    a numbness grips the tip of my fingers
    I resist, but
    they insist on getting to know him
    touch his skin
    and run my fingers through his curly hair.

    ~ Saumoshri

  • saumoshri 14w

    And then, one day they met. After 5 years, inside a cafe on a rainy day. No stolen glances, no intention to ignore each other. They smiled warmly at each other staring deep into each other's eyes not to find traces of the memorable and painful past, but for the sake of looking at each other mesmerized and noticing the changes that have made their way into both of them during these 5 years after their separation. She ordered a cappuccino, and he sticked with his darjeeling tea - less sugar. "How are you?" , took off their conversation like every other long lost story. But just like every other long lost story, slowly and gradually they grew comfortable in each other's presence. There wasn't any vibe of awkwardness between them, but just an old story covered in dust. And at last, he asked her the long awaited question. "Why did you leave?" Honestly she wasn't surprised at all. She knew that he never paid attention to all those small details, how he was too casual about everything that kept slipping off and the way he never tried to hold on tight. After a long pause she replied, "because you were too busy to care, too busy to hold on. I was slowly drifting apart from you, one step a day but you never tried to stop me."
    "I wish I had cared", he murmured.
    "I wish that too", she whispered to herself.

    ~Saumoshri

  • saumoshri 15w

    If he makes you write a poem in his praise, that's love.
    If you crave to see a little glimpse of him everyday and if you want to be around him regardless of how he feels for you, that's love.
    If you stare at him spellbound when he speaks, that's love.
    If you still have his lost hoodie or shirt or watch that you didn't steal, that's love.
    If you see forever in his eyes, that's love.
    If you get jealous when you see him close to someone else, that's love.
    If you close your eyes and hear his voice playing in your head when he's nowhere near, that's love.
    If you could never give him the love notes you'd written for him, that's love.
    If he makes your heart skip a beat, that's love.
    Also, if you look at him the same after he has broken your heart like a fragile wine glass shattered on the floor, that's love.

    ~Saumoshri

  • saumoshri 15w

    It's raining outside, and she knows he's staring at the rain from his balcony just like her because rainy days are his favorite too. She wants him to come back soon and she wants to tell him how much she missed not being around him together at moments like this and enjoying everything together. Because she misses the moments when he used to gently pull her close in his embrace so that she can stay warm and close to him, and listen to her endless rambling about how she thinks the sky looks beautiful when it crosses its path with rain and thunder. And how eagerly and madly she wants to dance in the rain with him and be absolutely carefree, and how she feels blessed to live and witness the moment together with him in his arms. But unfortunately, all of these are nothing but sweet and unforgettable memories for her now. Because he's too far, too far to hold, too far to look at and too far to feel. But still she remembers the curve of his lips when he talked, she remembers the sparkle in his eyes and the dimple in his left cheek when he smiled, she remembers every bit of him. This rain today is making her nostalgic, it is reminding her of him, of them, of the sweetest memories they spent together. But all she feels today is the emptiness beside her, the cold, the loneliness and the chaos of the reality.

    ~Saumoshri