The Silence of My Voice

Why, peter out from labelling my opaque coffee so sinister, when it's your breaths that constantly obscure its fidelity to me. Same breaths, your husky breaths, which wrote stories like Braille over my shoulders I still read. And stop secreting behind the book when you clearly are thinking about licking the wetness that has cascaded down my throat and is snuggly leaning off my cleavage - which would still blush of you. And my chest would swell from the slightest prompting of your voice. Stop rummaging hands through your hair! They're tethering my heart and lungs in multitudes of knots inside my chest. I remember the time my hands shuddered from tugging at your hair as they perused through all your apprehensions. Did you just scrutinise me why I think you did? I know. I remember this song, too. It's the one you raged out on my throat to dampen the fire in it, which smouldered with a flame, but no smoke. And your foxy eyes, are always a different colour - darker, whenever y...

Can you take me someplace else? Where my diary isn't the one, Whom I tell things, I used to tell you,  Somewhere,  That's not home, A place you're homesick for,  A world, not to be found, But to get lost in, Where there's no tax on coffee,  And people live to read, Somewhere,  Where the freshness of the cakes, Is the only intoxication to resort to, Where the wine is shared with only those you love,  And not to forget them, Somewhere, That is untouched by profit, That is virgin in its most spectacular manner, Somewhere,  Where you can talk to stars, And instead of guiding you, they hear you, For a change? Where the moon is unblemished, And the sun shines only until, Your warm skin shines to make you stand out, Do you know of a place like this? Take me to that place, Where you're the only person I tell things, And my diary is the only one to tell things, I can't tell you.  In hunge...

"Y ou are, at once, both the quiet and the confusion of my heart." – Franz Kafka I had to only close my eyes, and listen to the waves galore. The raised wall, separated me from the quaint water, as I walked the other side, mapping the circumference. The whiff of damp sand, and the salty water kick me back to the times when this used to be my home.  I remember the nights I've spent beside you, adoring your beauty, your sound as you convulsed a million times in your own folds, deep in sleep. I'd walk by you. You'd laugh as I scribbled on you. You always let it stay. You'd never smudge my identity, you let me be. Sometimes I'd sketch you, but you'd never stay still, always laughing, making strange faces. I wrote you numerous letters while being apart. I don't know if you ever received them. I never forgot you. My nights which have passed beside you are etched in my memory. Out of all the places I've been to, to make memories, you...

A week! =D You can check about the routine  here . So the confession for the day is DREAMS.   EVERYONE has that one fulfilled, unfulfilled dream, or a quest for the same.    Confess it! [FACEBOOK PEOPLE YOU CAN JOIN IN TOO] You can write your confessions on your respective blogs, mail the links for the same at akanksha1293@gmail.com. OR, if you don't want to reveal your identity, and think your story might embarrass you, no problemó! You can mail your confessions to me, and I, and only I would be witnessing your confessions. They would only be posted on my blog - no identity revealed. I'd be your confession box. Tawang . Switzerland of India. High end waterfalls, all year round snow, limitless tranquility. A place so silent, you almost feel you're touching the sky. That's where I want to be. The post will be updated late night. You can even have the morning to yourself, if you wish. On the verge of....oh whatever, Ak.