Bitter Liquid

She can’t be from this world. No poetry in the world can express her eyes. The two mesmerizing big sharp eyes, the two most beautiful pieces of art. Their enigmatic glitter puts diamonds to shame. Movement of her eyeballs is better than a thousand peris swaying on some remote lack in full moon, with their dresses placed aside.

Looking out of glass window, I saw her dancing around in that stormy evening of December. The cold was too intense to get one’s blood frozen in veins. Thinking of the cold outside, I called her into the room. The air changed its direction, casting raindrops over my window. These tiny beads of the raindrops, blended with lights coming out of next building projected her perfect shadow over my window, the shadow that kept me awake for dozens of nights, the shadow dark enough to hide the daylights, bright enough to let me see through utter darkness, into her bedroom miles away.

Every time I walked past her office, I could imagine her setting in there with her charismatic personality, spreading her Jasmine aroma around the room, sending walls into deep solvation. How softly she would be touching her keyboard keys, making a noise that would beat any melody of the world. Her voice, better than a thousand birds singing, her lips far beyond my imagination, her hair, sleek strands of silk bearing this privilege of kissing her back, sending water drops down her spine to the unexplored areas.

Afraid of insomnia, I decided to talk to her. Walking into that cafe where that beauty will be dining in for next couple of minutes was not an easy task. I had to motivate myself to face her, double checking if all my nerves were working in fine condition. Lost in the imagination of having her on my table, I couldn’t realize she was already here. She took her veil off, covering the whole café in pin drop silence, making sunrays bounce back from the window blinders, putting a perfect pause to everything and everyone in the café at least. if it wasn’t throughout the universe.

I ran out of that café, leaving behind a half-burnt cigarette and a half cup of coffee. Smoke coming out of the two mingled up in the air, intensified for a second, vanished forever the next second, turning coffee a cold bitter liquid, cigarette, a lump of ash.

I'm a Writer

I’ve been standing out here for last fifteen minutes. I see you smiling sarcastically in there, through these glassy walls, which are nothing less than Himalaya for me that needs to be crossed barefooted to reach temple on the other side, a temple that has solutions to all my problems. Failing to reach the temple, which looks inevitable, based upon your behavior towards me, will abandon me into a mist of darkness, a darkness that will fill my whole life, suspending all my abilities to see, feel, touch, smell and hear but all about you.

I may not be the same once I walk a step back, I may change my mind about the humanity, I may lose interest in anything out there, I may look crazy to most of the people, I may cease to understand so many things, the things I had firm believe in, throughout my life, but, I’ll not step back from this desire of bringing you into my life, the life which seems of no use, otherwise.

I’ll make you dust my house in the morning, make me coffee, butter my bread and do the dishes while I’ll be away for work. I’ll make you crave for me on lunch, waiting prudently to open the door, hold my bag, take off my blazer and unbutton my shirt. I’ll scold you once you’ll unbalance salt in the food, kiss your forehead to bring you back to normal, have dinner with me in candle light, iron my shirt for next day, and return to me on bed by the time the darkness would have covered all the light out there, all the light in here.

I’ll kiss your neck, arousing you impatiently to have more, to kiss more, to touch more. I’ll break your nightgown shoulder strap, making you naked, inviting all of my belonging to witness the most spectacular scene of this universe. I’ll slip my hand down there, sending shivers down your spine, forcing you to place your lips over mine, rubbing tongues. I’ll kiss you good bye in the morning, making you crave for me while you’ll set the bed sheet, we put wrinkles to last night, making you remember all the beautiful memories we made there, forcing you to wish for more the next night.

I’m a writer, I’ll make you do whatever I want, in my stories. And my dearest, that’s where we are meeting again, until I’m consumed by these stories, and there’s nothing left of me, but You.

The Imagination

There must be a way to prevail over all your senses, snatching every corner of your mind occupied by that lady who has never been into your arms. The one you talked to, for ten minutes under that burning sun of Summer on the way to university some 5 years back. I have been around for so long. We have shared thousands of laughers, thousands of sorrows, thousands of silences and you’re still into her fantasy. 

Tell me a day, I didn’t wish you Good Morning, tell me a day we met and I didn’t kiss you. Tell me a night I have slept without having you in my dreams, tell me a night we met we didn’t sleep with twisted legs. I can still taste your saliva under my tongue, can still smell your scent in my shirts. I have saved your broken button into my handbag for ages, your cigarettes under my pillow, your tie in my closet. 

Anywhere I go, I see a memory we made together on that road. Everything I eat, I remember how you liked it. Everyone I meet, I compare him to you. You are all around me, from morning coffee to hectic day routine to that bath tub to those silky pillows of my bed where we have been undressing each other for so long. From my dreams to imaginations to fantasy, you occupy my every second, every move, every place, everything. 

I’m can’t handle it anymore, I have to be that girl, the one who stays with you, even while I’m around. 

You can’t, my love. You have an expiry. You’re supposed to go, now or then, one way or the other. She has gifted me with this ability to imagine her, through which I have painted a sweet picture of hers, and who, in the world dares to destroy so sweet picture of a lady. Since the time I met her, the sun, the moon and the stars may pursue their journey, I bother not whether you are here or away, the whole world sums up to nothing but her smile, painted by my imagination, the smile which have been all around me for years, without questioning my sincerity, unlike you, my love.

Marry

Fifteen minutes of talk, twenty seconds of laughters and five seconds of eye contact was all we had and I was in love with her.

“hey, saw that girl, had she not been married already, I would have proposed her”, said my friend.

“You can still have her company on her way back home”, said I.

How?

Give me your phone

“Hi Marry, should I drop you home”, I texted from my friend’s phone.

“Sure”.

“Go drop her, she’s all yours for next 10 minutes”.

I could see her going with my friend, her hand on his shoulder, her thighs touching his back. She looked at me for a second, then t hurned her gaze to the sky, like she was thankful, like she was asking so many questions, like she held heavenly fire deep inside those rich dark eyes.

“So, how was the ride”, I asked my friend.

“Ride”?

“There have been so many of them, we have met thrice in last two months. I had this honor to feel her murmur, listen to her gossips, her hands pushing me away, then pulling me over her next second. We have been to unknown places, experiencing unknown feelings together, hiding under my blanket together, turning the shower on together”.

Heaven knows, with what ecstasy I listened to him, feeling each and everything they had gone through in past days. Yet, something was missing, like I had put a house on fire and was looking around for people to appreciate how I lit up that small village, which never needed that light.

“Where’s marry”, asked our program manager on get together.

“She had a personal problem, she can’t join us”, told a lady from her office.

“Look guys, we meet every three months and evaluate your work. Decisions for next quarter are made and one who doesn’t show up, can’t be expected to perform up to desired level”, said the manager.

“She would never show up”, said her colleague in low voice.

I rushed to her to inquire about the remarks she had made during the session.

” She’s fighting for her life in hospital. She had to go through abortion since her husband was abroad for last two years”.

I could literally feel the earth slipping under my feet, like the sky was falling over my head, like everyone was cursing me for lighting up the village.

“hey marry!, I’m sorry”, I leaned forward to hold her hand.

She turned her moistened eyes over me, placing her hand over mine said, “I knew from day one, I knew it’s you”.

“I had no other choice but to meet him, since you initiated this relationship. I’ve been fantasizing you, every time I met him. I knew, he tells you the stories that make you laugh, so I had to be a reason of your chuckle, even if it was killing me”.

It was more than I could hear. I had profaned her. I bent over, kissed her hand and left.

She was going away. I can never return those smiles, I knew. I had to die in chunks, unlike she did whole. I had to go through the same pain for decades, before I could die peacefully, like her.

I'm Weird

I want to heal all the stitches and fill my heart with a joy that puts a smile onto my face for decades.

But,

I want to drench more into streams of sadness caused by my past where we were making up the one, demolishing all the boundaries that could split up apart.

I want to be famous, appreciated, rewarded.

But,

I want to be below average, one known by no one, bothered by no one. 

I want to walk the streets where everyone wants a glimpse of me.

But,

I want to be known by nobody but you, the single you.

I want to be powerful who could get anything done by anyone with a mere gesture of his eyebrows.

But,

I want to ache more for your single glimpse.

I want to control the world.

But,

I want my every single move controlled by you, sighing long before falling asleep, craving for a cup of coffee made by you for centuries.

I want to be happy enough to lock every sorrow of this world into an unseen place that never finds me again.

But,

I want to taste our incomplete conversations in the back of my throat every night quoting every single second of my life into utter bitterness.

I want to sleep long without anything interrupting me for months.

But,

I want to crave for you every night, wishing to have you by my side twisting legs and sharing breathes. 

I want a thousand sleepless nights burning every drop of my blood wishing you to be part of my life.

Love You Too

“There on our right side are the snow caped peaks of Murree, too far to reach, too close to imagine. On our front stands the Mashkpuri Top, which literally translates to ‘Hill of Salvation’. We’ll stay here for the rest of the day and will get back little before the evening. You are free to wander around, delighting yourself with the true beauty of the world, the mountains”, the guide said in announcing tone.

Discussing casually, the hobbies, the ups and downs of life and passions they had deep in their hearts, they strolled across the lower plains towards Mashkpuri. He told her how things been governing his mind, forcing him to go on nocturnal walks that would last little before the sunrise and she told him how badly she hated reading, imagining events that aren’t possible in real world.

They were ascending the top, holding hands of each other, stumbling together, falling together, rising again and advancing in the same direction together. They differed in some aspects, alike in others. Differences that couldn’t take them apart, alikeness that brought them even closer on each step taken, each steep covered, each laugh shared.

“Mountains are mystical that capture all of your attention, opening your mind exponentially for none but to let you experience their beauty in the right way. Once forgets himself on the hill stations, lost completely into another world, a world that everyone far is deprived of, a world that has hidden treasure inside, revealing one at a time, until you long for more, until you long for none, until you cease to exist”, he had read somewhere.

“mountains have no beauty but a catalyst that helps in recognizing one, the one that have been around, being ignored under the outer influence of the cruel world. Mountains just help you concede the real one”, he thought.

It was below 0 C on the top, a temperature too good to freeze one’s blood, too fragile to affect even slightly, the fire within them. The cool breeze was gushing through their bodies, placing small particles of snow on top of her hair, decorating them like snowy peaks,  feasting his nostrils with her scent.

He held her closer, circling his arms around her. She pressed her chest against his ribs. He kissed her little longer than normal and whispered, ‘I Love You’. Smog from her mouth froze still on their tops, dispersing slowly  through the mountain ranges, echoing, ‘I Love You Too’.

I'm Jealous

It was 9:35 in the Morning. Realizing that I was getting last, I was almost running towards my classroom while she bumped into me, entering the university gate. “Slow down” she said. “Sorry” was all I could say in response, picking her bag up from the ground. While handing the bag over to her, she touched my fingers unintentionally, and ever since I’ve been jealous of my fingers, looking at them with mixed feeling of happiness, dismay and pain, wishing to touch her again, wishing to bump into her again.

I saw her talking to her classmate in the noon. What a charming, young lady having all the divine beauty, was she. I could see her friend listening to her with utter concentration, and I felt jealous of this guy, who could listen to her, look into her eyes and reply her in manly manner. It was just impossible for me to listen to her and keep my nerves under my control. I was too weak to bear her, too weak to listen, too weak to respond. 

I see her, carrying that brown bag, hanging on her shoulders, mocking every passerby, mocking everyone who would see her once in her eyes and lose everything to this lady with charismatic attraction, like I did, like most of the men did, like all of the men did. I am jealous of this hand bag, the way it dances around her, the way it accompanies her into her bedroom, the way it enjoys this privilege of touching her hips.

I see her rolling the pen into her mouth, pressing it under her teeth while thinking deeply and then holding it into her hand, putting her mind onto the paper. I see her saliva shining onto its cap for a short moment before winds take it with them, short enough to catch my eyes. I’m jealous of this pen, that feels soft touch of her tongue, rolls around her rosy lips, runs on the paper, converting her thoughts into words, shedding ink with every latter she writes, dying slowly, giving all its ink for her, giving away its life for her, into her hands.

I see that hair catcher, sitting on her top, holding her hair morning to evening, inhaling her scent, firming its grip around her, until she touches it again, freeing her hair, placing it back onto side table of her bed, where it witnesses her sleeping carelessly facing it. I am jealous of this clip, the clip that holds her hair in place, the clip that watches her letting free her hair in the evening, the clip that never sleeps, looking at her lying on the bed with closed eyes.

I am jealous of everyone who have ever listened to her, ever talked to her, ever been close to her. I am jealous of everything that proudly belongs to her, feels her, touches her, watches her. 

I am jealous of my eyes, my fingers…

The Naked Dancer

It was Saturday evening when I decided to visit a local theater, to have a glimpse of a woman who was being admired by every second person around me. “She takes away your pride, forcing your senses to abandon you, making you wander wildly into the streets of her body curves where you get nothing but enjoy every moment filled with pain of being at an arm’s length”, would say her addicts. I had to test my nerves, prove those devotees wrong, walk out of the theater arrogantly keeping my heart and mind in place, not falling for that colossal beauty.

She appeared naked, behind a fine white curtain that was somewhat successful in hiding her to a certain degree, arousing 1000 devotee’s impatiently, converting their inner desires into moans of appreciation, pain and pleasures and I stood there among them, touching a new limit of lust, surrendered to that perfect dancer, perfect woman, perfect creature. I have to see her behind that curtain, where nothing stands between me and her perfectly curved body, the curves that were blurred by the curtain, thought I.

I paid heavily to her manager and entered the room with dim red light. The walls were decorated with her pictures of dancing, half burnt cigarettes in ash tray, an aroma that was better than all the perfumes and a couple of broken beads here and there on the floor. These walls must have witnessed her body without any cloth and this sofa must have touched her hips softly, I thought while scrolling my fingers across the sofa purposely.

She appeared after 5 minutes, 5 minutes that had seized all my senses, making me knee down to this creature that was admired by thousands, dreamt of by thousands, fantasized by thousands yet remained unexplored, remained untouched, remained divine like forever.

She was wearing nothing, I think. I could dare not to blink for next 10 minutes, looking straight on to her face. My eyes made vain request to bow down to her, see her edges, inhale her scent, reaching down to her feet all the way from her shoulders through the body. I couldn’t. “What are you”, I asked instead of “Who are you”. “I am nothing different than a common woman”, she said looking into my eyes that were kissing her face, failing to look down at her body. “What makes me special is your desire, your desire to touch an untouchable, your desire to conquer the beauty, your desire to own something eternal, something being acknowledged by thousands, being fantasized by thousands, being joy for thousands, being pain for thousands’, she said holding my hand.

“Once you explore my edges, once you touch me body, once you have done what you fantasized, I’ll no longer be a special lady. I’ll be walking down the street among thousands of other women, women who are praised by none, stalked by none, dreamt of by none”, she continued, pushing me back on the sofa, placing her fleshy hips over my trembling thighs, kissing my neck. 

“I want not to put an end to my imagination. I can’t bring you down from the rank I have already placed you at in my mind, I want this dream to last long, real long. I want you by my side every night, accompanying me throughout the days”, said I, getting up from the sofa.

I hadn’t seen her body in 10 minutes, I couldn’t see it. I had to feel it, enjoy it, cherish it, losing myself into streets of her imaginations where I’ll no more be myself.

I'll wait

I’ll wait for the day you’ll make me coffee in the morning. You’ll fill my glass with the fresh juice on breakfast table, asking for suggestions about lunch. We’ll talk about how to raise our kids, we’ll talk about importance of education, we’ll talk about politics, we’ll talk about science, we’ll talk about every single thing in the universe. I’ll tell you how gorgeous your smile is making you blink twice trying to suppress your smile by pressing your teeth around your lower lip, turning your cheeks pink, turning your lips redder.

I’ll wait for the day, you’ll be lying next to me on the bed, facing me while the moonlight from front window dances over your face. I’ll stare, stare for long at your big dancing eyes. I’ll kiss you below your left ear, forcing you to push me back for a second and then placing your head over my chest, enjoying every single heartbeat of mine, the heartbeat that increases every single time you touch me, every single time I touch you, every single time we touch each other, every single time I think of you, every single time you think of me. I’ll wait for the day, I’ll no longer be staggering around in fantasy world

I’ll wait for your cheeks to stop glowing. I’ll wait for the silver color to spread across your black shining hair. I’ll wait for your flesh to lower its charm. I’ll wait for the day, you’ll no longer be praised by poets, no longer be stalked by passer byes, no longer be fantasized by young lovers. I’ll wait for the day, you’ll no longer have options, you’ll no longer share your breaths with anyone, you’ll no longer walk around arrogantly.

For, that is the day you’ll realize the true one, one who fell for you, one who praised you, not for your beauty but for what you are, the true you, the inner you…. Your soul. One who cares for nothing but your presence, but your smile, but holding your hand wandering barefooted in lawn, staring blinking stars in starry nights, until they turn red, until they turn blue, until they vanish.

I’ll wait for the moon to turn red, or stars to vanish away, or the Sun to burn no more. I’ll wait for the day, I’ll exhale my last sigh, wrapped into your arms, making you cry for the very first time in your life, tasting your tears, inhaling your scent, departing to an unseen journey.

I’ll wait for the day that’ll never arrive.

I’ll wait for the day, I’ll no more fantasize about you.

The Prostitute

No one has ever had sex with me, she said arrogantly.

He couldn’t believe her words. He had seen her going into the room with men, a dozen of times by now, being a regular visitor of that brothel. ‘You must be kidding, Sana, he said opening the second beer bottle.

‘No, I mean it’, she said looking straight into his eyes.

‘Well then, I’d like to be the first’, he said holding her hand.

‘You can’t, trust me’, she said walking behind him to the room.

‘Close your eyes and take your clothes off’, she said while undressing herself.

She kissed his cheeks, his neck, his chest, locking his lips, finally.

‘I want you not to open your eyes for next 30 minutes’, she repeated.

He could barely say ‘OK’.

She held his hand, kissed it and started moving it over her body, from her lips to her ankles passing through her things and between the legs. She sucked his small finger, biting his nails while drawing lines with her fingers around his spine.

She pushed him back on bed, riding him like a king who rules a newly conquered empire. She was rubbing his body against him, spraying his face with her long hair.

He was breathing insanely with half opened mouth, closed eyes, running his fingers through her hips, exploring he edges gently.

She kissed below his bellybutton, seizing his all abilities to think normally, behave normally, respond normally, overcoming the beer he just had.

He was sitting with his back pressed against the bed, his front pressed against her chest while she was sitting into his lap, sucking his lips.

She was lying naked into his lap, while he ran her fingers through her hair, softly. She lit a cigarette, took a long cush and exhaled on his face. He tried to inhale every bit of the smoke which had bitter taste like Malort, the better scent like Fresh Sake and unbearable hangover like the Bourbon.

She rouse up, threw the cigarette away, kissed his lips for longer than normal, and asked him to open his eyes.

‘Fizza’ was all he could whisper into her ear with closed eyes, kissing her one last time before tossing himself back on the bed acknowledging her claims.

(Note: The names are fictitious)

Let Me Read You

I have had enough looking at your cover page. You look interesting to me, in fact developing this strange urge inside me to explore you over and over again discovering every magic you hold that got no match at all. A magnet that drives me insane while you’re there on the shelf with thousand other books. I dared not to touch you earlier, imagining about your hidden places wildly. I can’t do it anymore, I have to cross this wall of imaginations into reality, where I can know true self of yours.

I promise to touch you softly, reading you thoroughly from your cover to the last page understanding everything written between the lines. I promise, I’ll not judge you by your cover photo, paying all my attentions to the beauty that lies among your pages, among your lines, among your words.

I promise to turn myself into the character as you’ll command on the way, being happy after you, being sad after you.

Just let me inhale that arousing smell of yours, bringing you closer to my face, while I still got some control over my senses.

Let me place bookmark of me inside you. A bookmark that will advance page to page all the way to the end and then starting over again and again until I have touched every page of yours, read every single line of yours, repeated every single word of yours.

I promise to keep you around all the time, throwing all the other readings away, beside me, over my pillow, dreaming about you while asleep, feasting my nostrils with your scent, making you the first thing I’ll look at on opening my eyes in the morning while sunrays will be dancing over your face, waking you up to a kiss making rays go away.

I promise not to correct any of your mistakes, not suggesting improvements from any aspects of yours while turning myself all according to you, according to your words, according to your ways.

I promise to read you again and again with same level of excitement, turning you page by page, till your end, holding you close, against my heart.

I’ll talk to you in long dark nights of winders placing you beside me on the bed, taking you out to the roof in summers where moonlight will admire my choice, morning stars will mourn on their fate that could never bring them closer to you as me.

Just let me read you, touch you, smell you, feel you and explore you, for that is what I have cherished in my heart long time from now.

Confession

On that hot summer day in June, after your last lecture at 3pm, your dad couldn’t come to pick you up for he had some meeting back at office and you hired a rickshaw to get back home. I had followed you throughout the way home to ensure the security.

You were late in first lecture of Business Ethics and you had to wait outside the class alone for entire 45 minutes. The teacher never banned your entry after that day, although you were late more often. I had threatened teacher anonymously, not to close the door during his lecture or he’ll have to face the consequences.

I was always late in subject selection on the start of every semester and would pay a handful of fine each time. I wasn’t dumb, I just wanted to go after your choice, to spend time around you. To see you rolling that ball pen between your teeth, arguing with teachers and enjoying this false feeling of you arguing with your parents in my favor.

We used to play cards on Tuesdays and Thursdays because there was gap of 2 hours between lectures of Digital Marketing and Risk Management. The loser would take everyone to pizza and I was the loser, the entire semester. I used to intentionally play foolish to take you on a secret pizza date.

Remember that last trip to the lack? Your foot tripped and you fell down into the water? It wasn’t your foot, I had pushed you down the rock to rescue you in the water. To get closer. To Touch the same water that had just touched your body, to make you push yourself towards me and put your arms around my neck insanely.

Remember that job fair on graduation day? We were selected into same company but I never joined. It was too heavy for me to be around you. Knowing, you had shared your pillow with someone, made breakfast to someone and let him explore your body and soul and I would be nowhere in your books anymore but a colleague.

Remember that last meeting? You asked me to pray for your future as you were gonna marry that stranger following your parents will and I promised to do that? I haven’t, till date. Now that I know you’ve been buttoning up someone else’s shirt for 2 years, yet I fail to pray for you. I still expect you back.

You Were A Dream

You can’t be real, I knew from the very first day I saw you. It was a hot summer afternoon that I saw you and couldn’t take my eyes off for a while. It was unbelievable how a person can possess such unique beauty. Everything around seemed colorful in that shadowy hot noon while your presence ignited cool breeze all around me carrying your scent along with it. It’s not that I hadn’t seen a prettier lady before, but you had that magnetic walk that drew me closer like no one else.

I somehow made it possible to be around you for a month or so and all that time, I knew it was a dream. I couldn’t sleep all those nights and dreamt while you were around, throughout the days. I started loving tea because you loved it, I knew. I was always 30 minutes early to office to follow you on the way and to enjoy this feeling of being alone with you in the room. I could never take my eyes off those glassy windows once you left the office chasing you till you were off the sight and then picturing you on your way home scared of this thinking about someone who’ll look into your eyes and will fall for you.

We used to talk about minor things on Facebook and it kept me alive to know, I’m still there in a tiny portion of your brain. And this feeling would overcome me throughout the night, converting every wish into dream, bringing you closer. You were all I’d been dreaming about all those nights, you were all I’d been thinking about all those days.

The day, I was no more a friend of you on Facebook was the day I stopped dreaming, ending up realizing it wasn’t you who was in my dreams, it was you who itself was a dream. I feel like being abandoned in the middle of Sahara, having no clue to the destination, looking at rising sandstorms all around me, turning my eyes into stones.

How can a dream be so fierce? May be you weren’t a dream, may be you were too good to believe, too good to bear, too good to be around. 

I Think I Made You Up

Inside my head, inside my heart, I think I made you up.

Remember the days, we were together? It was a formal relationship, wasn’t it? We hardly talked a couple of sentence, we never had meal together and sharing the bed was out of question. Then one day, surrendering to your quest for better, you left me all of a sudden.

But.

You’ve been walking with me all the time. Appreciating me on my achievements, scolding on mistakes. I have never made a choice without your consent ever since. I even read you out a few letters from ‘The perks of being a wallflower”. You recommended ‘The Sorrows of Young Werther’ to read next. I have read 50 pages and it’s a great book. We had a long discussion on ‘The Stranger’ on coffee table last night. I watched the ‘The perks of being wallflower’ yesterday. The movie is nothing as compared to the book. You know why? Emma Watson can’t be your substitute.

I’ve been discovering the hidden edges of your body every night. Every time I kiss you, your grip around my body intensifies as if, we’ll mingle to one. Tasting the inside of your lips and exchanging breaths, we sleep every night. You, facing me, with your left leg over my thighs, resting your head on my left arm, listening ‘Asleep’ by The Smiths. Next morning, while you’re busy making breakfast, I inhale each and every drop of your scent spread all over the bed like addicts.

It’s been six months, we haven’t met. We didn’t even exchange a single text message, yet you’re there, around me all the time. May be I should stop imagining you and learn to live without you. May be you’re around that I am failing miserably to believe a reality. May be I should stop drinking to get over your thoughts or may be drinking more is the solution. In any case, I want you around.

The one I have made up, around me, in real sense. 

A Girl in a Library

It was 6 pm when I stumbled into that bookstore. It was a weekend ahead and I had to buy me something to keep busy for next two days. I was in Romantic Fiction section, checking some books, while I saw her entering the store and going straight to the Dark Romance Section. I didn’t notice her at first until she asked salesman for something like her, something extraordinary. I couldn’t help myself look closely at the masterpiece, who was qualifying herself to be the subject of thousands of such books, thousands of extra-ordinary writings, thousands of extra-ordinary books.

I stood there, looking her strolling through pages unconcernedly. All books around seemed meaningless before her. I gazed her little more than a year trying to escape the depth of her eyes, who were capturing me miles down each second seizing my all abilities to swim.

“Come on man, we gotta move”, said my friend irritated.

“Sure”, I said, asking the storekeeper to bring me ‘First Debt by Pepper Winters’.

“Sorry sir, there was only one piece which just got sold. It’s out of stock for another week”, said the storekeeper.

I picked a book by Nina Lane and moved to checking counter.

She was there, on the counter leaning forward putting that book into her bag.

“May I please have a look at it”, I asked hesitantly.

“Sure”, she said handing book over to me looking directly into my eyes.

I had never felt prevailed over so intensively ever before. She had something that wouldn’t let me concentrate on my favorite book.

“I don’t know who you’re or where you live, however based upon your choice, I can surely say, We’ll be the best match”, I wrote on the last page of the book and returned.

I needed not to read anymore. I had to write one of my own, with her.

I Wish

It’s 4 A.M and I’m sitting in front of my laptop, staring at the blank screen. Trying to continue the conversation in my mind, the conversation that ended 5 hours ago with a couple of sentences about a book.

Every time I start over, I arrange the missing pieces in unique but pleasant order, that bring a smile to my face, which gets faded out behind the smoke of cigarette for a while, yet it’s there, I know. Like, you’re lying in your bed at your home, miles apart, yet you’re here, I know.

I wish, we could sit by each other till mornings, discussing all the books, one by one, each night. We’d agree upon some points that’ll bring us closer, and we’ll differ on the others, that will push us apart. I’ll experience utter joy and sorrow each night, keeping you happy by all means.

By the morning, you’ll be tired of all those conversations, resting your head on my shoulder, your long hair spread all over our faces, hiding us from the world. You’d nap for 30 minutes, and I’ll keep on talking without noticing if you’re listening.

Once exhaustion will overcome you, you’ll lie-down there, beside me, placing your head into my lap, making me feel the richest person on planet. I’ll keep looking at your sleepy eyes for hours, daring not to move an inch.

You’ll wake up in the morning once the rays of the Sun will start kissing you face. That’s when I’ll feel like, jumping from the ship in the middle of the Pacific, that I’ll have to swim till the evening, till we’ll sit again alone, on the roof to discuss another couple of books and to carry out the ritual of staring your eyes while you’ll be asleep.

I wish, we could spend time like that, I wish I could stare for long, I wish I could die one such night while you’re there, resting your head into my lap. I wish…

False Promises

"How can you just walk away like that? What about all those promises you've been making me?"

“Promises are meant to be broken. I was a different person then, but now I’ve changed. My preferences have changed. And I made those promises for me, for the sake of my own happiness. Now I’m not making any more promises, I’ve changed and I’m sorry for that”.

“What? You have changed. It’s easy for you. What about me? I can’t change myself. I can’t drag myself out of the fantasy world I’ve been weaving so long, keeping you in the center of it. I can handle your broken promises but can’t see you leaving. Keep on making those promises and keep on breaking them. May be someday, pieces of those broken promises will pierce my heart enough to kill it, or make it turn away. Not now please”.

“You want me to kill your heart. Are you crazy? I can’t do that”.

“What makes you think, leaving will not kill me”?

“I think I loved you too and if I can pass it, you can as well. Just remember, I love you and will keep on loving. But it’s not working, I got to move”.

“Why? Are you in love with someone else”?

“No, it’s just my mind. That’s compelling me to move on. You’ll find a better love, trust me”.

“I have never been loved and it stopped bothering me long ago. All I want is You, around me, all the time. That’s all I care about, that’s all I’m concerned about”.

“I don’t know how to react to this foolish logic”.

“Just come back my love. Keep on making those false promises and keep on breaking them. One day, you’ll either fulfill those promises or bury them with my heart. One day I’ll learn to move on like you, but that will be the end, I promise, my love”.

Once Upon a Time

"Developing and writing about the Character is the most important thing in fiction writing, without which even a great story lands no where but dust bin", said the teacher on day 5 of the workshop.

"The activity for this weekend is to look around yourself while at cafe, shopping, classroom or walking down the street, notice a person closely with all your senses and write down about it a paragraph", said the teacher collecting his belongings on the table. 

"She is extraordinary girl with out of the world gestures. Shining black hair, tucked behing her ears, falling down viciously kissing her hips. Red scarf placed gently on broad shoulders, forming a cross above her breasts. Wearing creamy white trousers with red linings on both sides, traveling through her fleshy thighs to the knees. 'Is the session to be held here' was all she had to say on the very first day in her melodious voice that drew all my attentions, that I have failed to gain back, till date. I have ceased to concentrate on lectures, that anybody would, while she's sitting beside you with fresh scent arising from her hair, that would put any perfume to the shame. It's the first time, I've come across a lady who can possess such unique qualities in utter simplicity", he wrote on first night after the session.

"He's an average looking guy with overgrown mustaches and casually trimmed beard. Navy blue dress pants with white shirt, sleeves half rolled and golden watch adding to her formality. There's nothing particular about him until you see directly into his eyes or talk to him, who appeares to be a kid. Until, once you have spent two days with him, you discover true him, who unfolds himself, slowly, slowly, slowly, yet takes over all your thoughts", she penned down a day before the session. 

The other person is too good to be wih me, they thought two hours before the session.

"Exchange your writings with each other, review and comment", said the teacher.

Both exchanged the stories with each other written about fictional characters. Little did they know about the stories they were hiding.

Gold Digger

I saw her taking selfie with a female friend of her beside my car, while coming out of cafe. With a glimpse of hers, a thousands memories sprang up in my mind. 

I saw her during a session and she was the one out of hundreds of ladies who drew my attention. Two big, deep, dark, talking eyes half sunk into the ocean of curly black hair hanging both sides that she would jerk now and then, an unsuccessful effort to make them go away, but they would keep kissing her cheecks, neck and shoulders. A little tilted nose that adds uniqueness to her beauty. I asked her name after the session and sent her friend request next week surrendering to my thoughts and hopes. We talked a bit about a book she was currently reading and with it, a river of conversations flew uncontrollably between us. It went uninterrupted untill, one day, she found a guy with enough money to buy her. One, who would take her to cafes, coffee shops, buy her favorite shoes and pair of jeans. There came a day, while she turned my offer down to drop her as the other guy was gonna buy her Subway, in addition to dropping her home. 

"Hi, how are you? Haven't seen you for long, have you been out of town", she asked hiding her phone. 

May be I was, but have been using the same number that's saved in your cell. 

"Yes".

"How's everything going", she asked in somewhat concerned tone.

It's been real difficult, coming over your memories. The evening you left felt like, I'm not gonna make it to the morning. Somehow, I survived. Then you've been ruling my mind for months, haunting my lonely nights, chasing me in markets and making me sad even in the company of some good old friends. People started feeling irritated with my careless behaviour, I began to dislike myself, There was nothing left of my interest.

"It's been GREAT!".

"Can you drop us home, please", she asked hopefully.

Now that, I have survived the first night, started liking myself allover again, enjoying the company of friends and almost got rid of your memories, I'll not make that mistake again. It's over, like it never happened, like we never met, like we don't know each other. Now that your hangover is over, I'll not take a sip again as you're meant to cause hangover, cause pain, cause upset.

"NO", I said coldly, unlocking my car. 

Coffee Shop

Remember that corner table in gloria jeans, where we had coffee together 2 year, 1 month and 14 days ago at 3:09 pm? I go there every Saturday to have long conversations with you. We talk about everything from taste of coffee to feelings before dying, color of your dress to colorless lives of street beggers, black mole on lower left corner of your chin to the black holes. We have never been tired of these small meaningless talks since they are our only hope to push the cart of lives ahead, step by step, seamlessly in two opposite directions.
On our way back home, you place your head over my shoulder that provides me an assumption to feel the richest human on the planet. While I unlock the door, you stand on door steps yawning. Your teeth glow lively in the dark like an oyster in the pearl that no one gets to sieze. I find a stranded singular strand of your hair over my shoulder that I place in the crease of my shirt carefully. At this moment, I feel the luckiest person to have something of you that I never had to ask for.
We kiss each other passionately, make love in grey beds for hours, discover each and every curve of each other's bodies, tasting coffee flavor in each other's mouths, exhaling furiosly near each other's earlobes, bringing shivers inside backbones... A little after mid night, you fall asleep without noticing, I'm starting you. May be you don't care, may be you're used to it, may be I'm dreaming, who knows, who cares to know as long as we're aware of the fact that we two humans, being too close, yet miles apart, can't make one complete person.
By Sunday morning, you're gone, but your smell rules the room for week and my life for decades to come.
May be one day, I would find your note on coffee table, stating single world 'bye'. That'd be the last day I'd breath and depart to an unseen journey. May be someday, you'd walk into same coffee shop with your husband and opt for the same table, unintentionally. That day, even for a moment, as short as blink of an eye, you remember me, just smile for that is the most precious gift you bear, for that is what I have been longing for throughout my life, for that is what you're made for, for that is what's made for you, truly.  

I'm a Prostitute

"Do you love someone"?
"YES", she said looking away from her palm where she had just emptied two cigarettes.
"But that's a different kind of love, the love that hardly anybody knows or understands". After warming and mixing hashish with tobacco, she took a deep sigh and continued, "It's been two years, we have been in love"'
"what does he do", I asked curiously.
'He's a drug dealer who supplies me hashish with hundreds of other addicts in the city", she said exhaling smoke from her nostrils.
"And what type of love is that nobody understands"?
"It's been two years and we haven't shared a bed, even for once. Every time he's here, we sit in front of each other, I prepare the cigarettes and we smoke, he prepares the cigarettes and we smoke, looking into eyes of each other, not even saying a single word, but listening to each other's silence. Once hashish overcomes our feelings, I lie down on this couch and he, there on that bed. Yet, we prevail aach other's mind for hours, lying numb".
"How do you know he loves you"?
"He proposed me once and I said NO, yet he comes here every week to perform the ritual of silence, to share the smoke, to talk in silence, to feel the inner voice".
"What! why did you say NO"?
"Because I know what people do after finding love, because I want him caged for the rest of his life. The day we'll merry I'll start losing him. We'd share the bed and all the desire we have for each other will vanish in next few days or weeks. It will last a year or so, if I'm lucky but it will end gradually and surely. Sex is the most fragile thing that can hold two persons close, but the desire to have sex keeps people close for centuries".
"Isn't it a mean thing to do with a person wo loves you? You're least concerned about him. What if he can't handle this all and moves on someday"?
Lighting the seventh cigarette she said, "Whoever enters this room is gone the next morning. At least he hasn't, for so long. And there's nothing mean for me, after all, I'm a prostitute".

Will you?

Years from now, while buffing your home and looking for some dispensable stuff in your cupboard, you find your MBA degree, with it a thousand memories spring up in your mind. Amidst all these mixed memories, will you remember how I used to stare you for hours in that grassy plot by the admission office?  Will you?

If someday, while shopping in that busy market you come across a begger who requests a couple of pennies. Before throwing coins into his bowl, while taking them out of your purse, will you repent  for not awarding something to a person who needed that more than this begger? Will you?

On birth of your baby boy, while looking the list to name him, There appears 'Aqib' somewhere among thousands of other names. Will you remember, it was associated with me? Will you?

If we ever walk into each other, you going with your husband and son to watch a movie, me on my way home from work, will you pass me a smile assuring me you haven't forgotten our only meeting, our one little secret that I'm going to cherish in my heart, forever? Will you, My Love? Will you?