Scribblings and scrawls of a hopeless romantic soul



Heart status: Mending


How strange it is to have a broken heart

Shattered not by a person but words

In a clever play of thoughts and emotions

A hopeless romantic heart broke in two

My heart bleeds for the fallen petals

And the wreath upon a grave

Two souls in love but was never together

They could have had better days

The other story that ripped me apart

Was a heart that has lost its worth

Lifeless and withered in a garage sale

For a crumpled 10 dollars was sold

This morning, my heart met an accident. Not the fatal crash of falling in love— or out of it, nor the serious threat to mortality kind of mishap. Simply saying, it’s one of those catastrophic accidents of stumbling over two very sad stories from An Alchemist’s Diary and Rambling Ink in a row. They were very well written, very well done that I could still taste the bitter tang of misery and gloom. My hopeless romantic heart couldn’t help but broke in two.

So, I hope these little astronauts mend it quickly than it should. Until then, I’m afraid, I cannot write a happy thought…

Magic Tricks


When I think of magic, I think of your tricks

And the deck of cards in your pocket

How you came to me and asked for my name

Showing me an old trick, you were classic

“Pick a card, any card, any card at all”

That’s what you said and I did as told

Little did I know, I’ll be your Queen of Hearts

When I picked the Ace of Diamond

But like all tricks, yours was a ploy

A joke. A prank. A caper

For I never saw what was under your sleeves

Until you broke me to pieces

52 cards, 52 weeks—

That’s a year if you were counting

When you turned that diamond into a ring

You were Jack of all trades, I should have seen.



In response to Writing 101: Poetry

Day 1: Magic
The first prompt of the course is out, courtesy of @laduchessederat. It invites you to write a poem involving magic, whatever your take on the magical might be.

I wanted to write something light and jolly but, yeah, madness happens. I enjoyed this bitter piece though. 😉



I’d pick those broken pieces
And place them in your hands
Whenever, wherever
I get a chance
I’d ignite the flame
Once washed by the rain
Set my heart on fire
Send my desire
I’d brave the storm
Hate, disgust, scorn
I’d face it all
In any lifetime
In any day
I’d still choose you,

Twisted Tale

Artwork by Ilya Kuvshinov
Artwork by Ilya Kuvshinov

When her head is buried halfway into your neck and you feel the warm of her breath seep into your skin, you kiss her forehead softly,  eyes closed but you feel her arms tight around you and know she‘s smiling. The feeling,  is probably the best one out there.  -Unknown

Meanwhile, in a parallel universe…

Her head nestled on your shoulder, long soft fingers traveled the crook of your neck, and behind those closed eyes you knew what’s next—or so you thought. For just like a thief that crept on your sleep, you didn’t see it coming. You let an initial gasp of pain escape as she lunged and sank her teeth into the depths of your flesh while her lips sealed the skin of your throat. She gurgled and slurped your blood now soured by greed as your neck bone crushed under her teeth. Lethargy sets in and you could feel your life draining away. Her eyes remained closed at first, drinking you in; then they opened. She froze rigid, her mouth clenched and her eyelids squeezed tighter. Slowly, a single tear fell and her eyes widened in horror. It was the longest silence you’ve ever had and the loudest voice you’ve ever heard.

“Noooooooooo!” she screamed.

And that feeling is probably the worst one out there.

It’s been more than a week of endless workload and more than a week of literature drought. I haven’t written anything since then and I wish I could just spend one whole day with this blog. This mental exhaustion is dragging me down and I would give anything just to vanish for a few second and find my inner peace. 😦

Anyway here’s a quick post that I wanted to share. I read this one from Berlin-artparasites, one of the literature pages that I follow on Facebook. The artwork was beautiful and so was the caption. While reading, I couldn’t help but twist the lovely tale and gave it a bitter end (probably because I was feeling worn-out and crazy).

On bravery and love: The brave, the braver, and the bravest

The brave

She’s the kind of brave who would battle the raging waves and fight the cruel storm just to keep your relationship. For you she’ll fight against all odds. She’s the kind of brave who remembers. She’ll remember how she walked into love with you, with eyes wide open, choosing to take every step along the way, even when you’ve already given up. She’ll remember how she was once your sunshine and you were her moonlight. She’s the kind of brave who would wait in the room when you slammed that door close, hoping you’d come back in a heartbeat. Continue reading “On bravery and love: The brave, the braver, and the bravest”


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There was a time when the wind, sunbeam, and sky
The long roads and every common sight
To me did seem
Like everything was right.
But in the midst of ruins and shattered shields,
The hour of anguish and crashing down
I ask of you
To stay, still, you left
And as I wake– the wind, the sunbeam, and the sky
The long roads and every common sight
To me now seem
Like nothing’s gone right.
Think of the summer,Christmas, and milk tea treats
Of funny faces and random smiles
In a flash
You came, like a smoke, wanes.

It takes six men before you meet your lucky 7—or not

Photo credits: Dada

If anyone has watched the movie, Lucky 7, where control-freak Amy sticks to her detailed timeline as a guideline in all walks of life including love, this one is about the same.

We are all hopeless romantic. We long for love and affection. We desire to feel the magic it brings. We hold on to our faith of finding true love. Some people get lucky, some work their ass off in search of ‘The One’, and some just run out of kismet. Time and experience may have changed our idea about love. Some gave up with their awfully broken-into-pieces heart whilst some stood up from the fall, wiping the bruises and forgetting the scars, to once again hope. Hope that someday, somewhere, somehow they might just get their luck.

Continue reading “It takes six men before you meet your lucky 7—or not”

 Photo credits: Ching Falcone


I see it in the depths of your stare.
The steam of the feelings you’ve been trying to hide.
Of when it started I’m uncertain.
But I see the things you try to deny.
I wish I could tell you I knew it all along.
Yet what good could it make for us both.
I knew you care and hold me so dear.
But to your mind I’m a chaos, to your heart a poison.
Then one day you needed to tell me something,
You came with those eyes about to explode.
I wish I could tell you I knew it all along.
I had to step back and utter, “Don’t.”

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