The time has come.

These last couple of months have taught me how beautiful staying up can feel, especially when you have the right company with you. The appeal that darkness had in my eyes faded, it was those little fairy lights that you had put up on the walls that kept me mesmerized on those not so rare occasions when you fell asleep before me. I always told you that I wanted to witness the sunrise with you, and although that couldn't happen literally, we did catch many metaphorical sunrises. Those times when you would ramble in your half asleep state, those words that you would render senseless come morning, I still remember each one of them. For they were the reason I stayed up past my bedtime, in hope of getting to glance into your soul through the tiny slits that you somehow kept hidden during the day. I tried staying up after you left too. I would shut myself away from the world, and stay up looking at those very fairy lights that were a part of our little universe at night. But they don't shine enough to keep me interested for long, nor does the darkness hold much appeal anymore. That's when I realised it is not the absence of your soul, or the void you left behind that is haunting me; it is the solitude of the night that scares me the most. And that's why I have started to keep my windows shut, and my lights off when I sleep. Because everything about the night - the moon, the stars, the cool breeze, the serenity, the feeling of being accepted - it all reminds me of you.

- shwethabhat //And it's time to move on now.//

I am the girl you grew up with;
The one you call your best friend.
I am the one who had to stay up
listening to your endless rants
varying from the burn you got, to
the second glance your crush gave you.
I am the one who always complained
about your annoying habit to over share.
How was I supposed to face that
call your parents gave me yesterday,
asking me to tell them the reason
behind your decision to take your life?
I couldn't find my voice, nor words,
to tell them I had no idea, no clue,
that you were gone; forever.
Your note, it read, "I need peace,"
and everyone began to decipher it
the way they wanted, because that is
how vague you always were with everyone.
But me? You had never let me assume.
You always had had answers for me,
for every one of my queries; unasked.
And now, you left me with an unanswered
question, which shall never be answered.

I had read many times before,
that suicide is such an ugly word
but, thanks to you, now I know
how ugly it actually feels, too.

©Shwetha Bhat

#47 Life lesson.

http://imshwethabhat.tumblr.com/post/155943647224/there-are-people-who-will-never-be-happy-with-what

#45 The story of how I almost drowned you.

I was born a poet, you were born to be a muse.
Most of the times you did not understand what I was trying to say, but that didn't stop me.
I wrote and wrote; about your eyes, your voice, your way of loving me.
I was obsessed with the idea of you, your love.
Writing about you became my new favourite pastime.
I called you my world, and you would laugh and ask me if my world had a sun of its own.
It did. It was you again.
You were my world and everything within that little world.
But how could a world so perfect thrive for long?
Soon my love began drowning you.
We knew you could only survive by swimming off to the shore.
But you held on to me with all your might.
And for a silly moment, I believed we would survive even.
But the happiness was short lived.
I watched with grief as you slipped out of my grip.
You stayed until it was impossible for you to come up to the surface to breathe.
And then you left.

Even to this day I wash to the shore to get a glimpse of you, but I return disappointed each time.

#46 To my Lord...

The light that was leading me on,
Went out leaving me in the dark,
I looked up and found you,
Smiling down at me,
Like you were anticipating my arrival,
Your smile blinds me for a moment,
I'm stunned by the brilliance that you are,
Those eyes made of oceans,
Your mane like the dense forest,
I'm lost in you, slowly fading into the void,
You hold out your hand and I reach for it,
A touch is all it takes,
I stand enthralled taking it all in,
You lead me to a garden of roses,
The flowers in bloom are no match to you,
The fragrance they emit holds no significance to me,
I look at your hand, in which you hold the world,
The very hand that's touching me now,
I fall to my knees,
Humbled by the affection you have shown,
Shaken by the feeling of being loved by you,
My love for you grows by the day, minute and second,
And you smile a knowing smile,
What are words for when you read me so well,
I bow before you with a promise then,
Of never letting another soul above you,
You have and you shall always have my heart,
And my Lord, you shall always be the one I love.

#44 You...

I was seeing red;
Choking on the stale air.
You came in like a gust of breeze;
I breathed you in,
You filled me with the scent of a thousand roses.

I was imagining things;
Growing afraid of the dark.
You came in with a bright smile;
I let you shine upon me,
You brought with you a ray of hope.

I was burning love;
In hope of keeping warm.
You came in like the sun;
I let you warm me up,
You built in my heart a castle of love.

I was weeding out hurt;
And sowing seeds of faith.
You came in like a rain cloud;
I let you rain on me,
You helped the seeds I had sown bloom.

Months later, here we stand;
Reminiscing the moments since.
I let you in and you stayed;
And since then it's been you,
You... You... You.

#43 Rantings of a bookahilic.

I discovered my passion for reading quite late in life. I was almost eighteen by the time I realised I was obsessed with books, and that, compared to most people I know, is pretty late. I see kids, my nephews for example, get engrossed in books the way I do now and I wonder why I wasted a good deal of my childhood doing what I did instead of just plunging into books. I wish someone had helped me find a good book back when I was little and paved the way for me. Don't get me wrong, I've been a reader all my life. I was a regular at my school library where I borrowed and returned books, after reading them of course, at quite an extraordinary pace. But I wasn't obsessed with stories. I didn't read like people breathe; the way I do now. Reading was a hobby, not an obsession; the way it is now.

My parents, though normally they're pretty cool about my obsessive reading habits, do get worked up if they see me concentrating on a novel instead of textbooks. I don't miss a beat before reminding them that, of all the things kids are choosing to get addicted to, they should be proud of me for choosing books. And it really helps. Mostly.

It has come to a point where I can't survive a day without reading at least a few pages. If I don't find a book, I read scraps of newspaper, or literally anything that offers words and stories (I never pick up a textbook during these times, though. It never comes to that.)

Reading is probably the easiest way of enhancing one's vocabulary. And what's more, it's fun to learn like that. So, read. Read like you're born to read. Read like there's no tomorrow. Read, and love reading.