3ww: Blush, Quiver, Tenderness

"we fade, we form.

our eyes meet, my soul trembles.

our lips meet, my eyes scream.

your tenderness keeps me wanting more.

my hands shake and quiver.

my heart skips a beat.

i breathe, i breathe you into me.

keep me there a little longer.

i wish i was there a lifetime longer.

kiss me again, let me in again, let me breathe you in again."

this is all a dream...i wake up..i breathe..i blush..

i fall back into my bed...wishing i'd go back there..

i breathe, i blush..

Promted by 3ww

sunday scribblings: stranger

Come one pm and he walks into the café. Today, she arrived before him; usually he is sitting and watching the afternoon fly by. Both of them had the same look on their faces. Both faces tired and sad, looking out into the empty streets and silence raged between them. They were always silent with each other, talking was kept to a minimal. Maybe they spoke of their work; maybe of things they did, holidays they took or people they met. But mostly they were silent. He smiled at me today. Maybe the daily dose of my face being the only one at the café was the cause for that smile. His eyes shimmered a happy look when he smiled at me, while she stood outside with her cigarette. Maybe she was waiting for him. But I had seen both of them alone on many occasions, so maybe she wasn’t waiting for him (I am very unsure). I watched her take a few long, hard puffs off her cigarette, while she stood outside, before he came. She is beautiful, her sadness is captivating. I wonder though, if its sadness I see or weariness. Sometimes tired eyes can fake sadness. Both their worlds merge in the afternoons they spend in silence, or sometimes words or sometimes laughs. They merge, their souls merge. It is a beautiful sight, a glimpse into 2 strangers' lives.

http://sundayscribblings.blogspot.com/2008/11/137-stranger.html

BORED

i am horribly bored.

bored

bored

bored

the worse part about being bored is that there's no mood to do anything else. book is interesting, i can't read past a paragraph. i am bored. horribly, terribly bored.

hope you are well, and NOT bored!

update

updates have been slow. considering i am in detention at office, opening any blog page seems an utter waste.

i learnt a new game in time i was away, thanks to ben and aj for teaching us and smita for taking me along.
name of game: unknown, however, ben and aj call it 5, 10, 15, 20. which is literally the whole game in the name. fun times.

i was a s*'s "little lamb" for yesterday. thanks to lu, we now know a place where smoking is as legal as it can be. thanks lu.

its all a stand still.
the longest pause on a song you have never heard, eager to hear, but it has been paused.
pause, pause, pause...

musically torn,
mentally drained,
physically useless,
i have successfully lost myself in all the mess.

my room is no more my life. this new room doesn't console or council me anymore.
sleepless, sleepless and disturbed.

but, if you ask me what's wrong, i can't give you an answer.
i just can't. there is nothing monumentally going wrong in my life at all.
nothing is happening.

maybe that's the problem.

dreams surface, soar and die in minutes.

"....this too shall pass..", hopefully.

thanks to all the people who are still around. thanks for laughing, talking, being silent, dancing, drinking, smiling :)

these are the people who have kept me going, in their own little ways. thank you for that :)

Invictus - william ernest henley

HERE

Rudyard Kipling

If

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or, being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with triumph and disaster
And treat those two imposters just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with wornout tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on";

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings - nor lose the common touch;
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run -
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man my son!

its been a while

life stands still,
lights go by slowly,
the wind rushes through my hair,
tears seep through my skin.
faces tear me apart,
no smiles to smile,
no words to speak,
its all a blur.
stuck like an old record,
not moving,
just stuck,
time stops.

tick. tick. ti

it all stops..