Another morning.

The sun still shines in my face, forcing me to step my foot out of my bed

The floor is crumbling,

I rushed to wear my bunny shoes but they are melting

A monster has swallowed my room, set my things on fire, snatched my people away

I had locked rooms with ideas, they are floating; I am catching the remaining ashes as they greet me to my new home

Unknown; people surround me. I try to trick my mind that this is my home. But there are no giggles. No whispers in comments

Once upon a time when the notifications made me smile

My neighbors have shifted to another home.

But how could I forget a place which wasn’t my home in the first place,

It was hope, smile, tears, laughter.

Home 404

I found myself here.

I am picking up the red sheets to washing away the love but now it’s bleeding.

I am cleaning the windows, hoping for some sign of hope

I am packing my goods, but nostalgia is holding me back

Save me, my home

Home 404

From the first day, I stepped into this house

I was aware that I didn’t belong here

But I gathered memories from the happy chuckles

When I was with my family, we played game nights on weekends

Musical chairs, board games

The times when I couldn’t play chess and thought we used as magnets on the refrigerator

Days when I was low, trying to get up from bed

Sunlight blessed me through the windows which supported me

The moment when I goto the shower and cry, I know this home would never judge me, accept my flaws

Ceilings dropping tears, wailing for me

The doors have cracked paint waiting for me to heal them

My desk is breaking down, breaking down

How could you bid farewell to us? Samina

Chandeliers whisper secrets in midnights and couches beg me to lay carelessly on it for hours, I wish I could

That’s when I knew I belonged here

But this home never belonged to me

Home 404

I never found a person who I could call home,

Who I could hug when the days go rough

At least I had a place I call home

But it’s lost

Lost but I never owned it

I do own my memories, still

Home 404

But I would never see this street again, never see this home again,

I am incomplete without this home & this home is incomplete without me

Home 404

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FOOTNOTE:

DAY 1: HOME 404

WRITE ABOUT A HOME (PLACE, PERSON, ANIMAL OR ANYTHING) WHICH WAS NEVER YOURS.

#decemberprompts1 #saminadecemberwritings

I am sorry for kissing you in my dreams.

You have always been the vanilla-honey sweet to me. The way you behave with me shows me a glimpse of the world I have never been to. You are the light that wakes me up when I think I will never be able to. You don’t let me give up on my dreams. Just like petrichor, you remind me of the world that exists.

In my dreams, your hair was floating and messy. I love the silly mess. It shows imperfection. I don’t want a perfect person. I want someone who becomes perfect with me. I know you love me, but when you be yourself that’s when I am most attracted to you.

I feel guilty and confused. I can’t help it. It was a dream, can’t undo it. But now I will definitely wonder about it, subconsciously or consciously. You’re breathtaking and beautiful. I don’t mean to romanticize you. I don’t feel romantic when I am with you. I feel the best in the world. I feel myself.

I respect you so much. I am sorry I will never kiss you again in my dreams, but I don’t regret it either. The dream was whimsical, beautiful set in wonderland. We both were the queen of the palace.

No one judged us.

We could be ourselves.

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FOOTNOTE:

Umm, how’s it.

#decemberprompts1 #saminadecemberwritings

This prompt is inspired by @cottagepoetry on Instagram.

I entered into my mind,

it was messy, clumsy, lazy,

confused, overwhelmed, little happy,

like a sponge dipped in pain, my foot got stuck

to the unnecessary thoughts glued. And,

pain squeezed out of the sponge,

there were some spider's web on the corner of the room, but

I found a way out, oops

I scattered the false bitter comments kept in a box, wow

I stumbled upon the walls of her brain, it had bright comments engraved with decorated dreams she built, ouch

I got hurt by the bumpy road which leads to an abandoned room, ahh

people call it the room of creativity, wow

there was a lot there, why

doesn't she use it so often?

maybe it needs the courage to open this room for the world, she needs the courage to suck,

so I grabbed this piece from the creativity room and ran away,

I tried to escape her brain, but

I was caught, now

her mind is a prison and I can't get out.

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Footnote: ‘her mind is a prison and I can’t get out’ inspired by Alec Benjamin’s song ‘my mind is a prison’ well I just wanted to end it with this line. Hehe!

So I am having some courage to suck….I got out of my mind with this piece. ENJOY!

I rushed into the airport gate.

My chest was stiff, no don’t turn back.

I slipped my hand into my purse and I put on my sunglasses. There was no sun, but there was a reason that my eyes are dipped in sorrow, but silence is the only luggage I own.

I felt his presence. But I didn't want to say goodbye. I said to him to look for the good, in goodbye.

I boarded the plane.

The attendant gave us emergency escape instructions. Well is there an emergency exit for my heart to jump off the plane?

All I wondered was

The airport is the place where families meet, and where melancholy seeps into the air-conditioned rooms.

Tears flow from clouds to the moisture on my plane window. As I sank into it. Hoping to see tiny you lost in the miniature city.

When my tears couldn't find a way to escape. I looked at the clouds.

We were dancing with rain, but memories are a double-edged sword.

You cherish them, but then they hurt you.

Plane landed

I got down the plane, trying to think of the future this new place holds.

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When the plane landed, I gasped

Slowly opening my closed eyes to the world I left behind.

Smelling the wet mud which is still alive, oh petrichor

When the air hostess greets me with a namaste, it's a feeling of belongingness.

The rain greets me and the wind dances whirling me around

It's all lost in a timezone

Delhi airport, when I roll my eyes to check if anything has changed in the years. It gives me chills to see the vending machine filled with kurkure, an Indian flavor of lays. It's all lost in the time zone. When I see the nine mudras on the walls of terminal three. That's when I get reassurance. that this is my land. Skillfully posing unique Indian architecture reminds me of the missing ingredients of my life.

Time Zones strain me, my friends go to bed earlier than me,

That’s when I feel empty, overwhelmed.

When the sun rises before you rise, and nights are deeper than my plight.

It’s a pleasure to see them at the airport when we live

At the same time zones. Virtual hugs and profound cuts

Can’t heal when all I find is time, a time we could talk,

Stuck in my timezone which was on a neverending loop

It’s a delight to see the narrow streets, hawkers selling sweet

When I shout shotgun, it’s always astonishing to see the driver’s seat on right

I'll be yawning, it’s insane with jet lags.

Aroma of kulcha, masalas roasted with ghee making it irresistible to resist.

As the car moves casually along the modern roads, grey pavements have turned black, the whole place seems to be new.

Buildings rise, trees die.

It’s all lost in timezones.

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Footnote: by the use of timezone I refer to a different country. It’s a very personal piece with main things I feel while traveling. I hope you all liked it.

Smashing of utensils, shrill screams coming from the apartment next to mine. I tried to distract myself from the music high, I tried to avoid, forget as anyone does. But I heard the glass shatter in the wall and I was dazed, astonished. I kept saying myself

You shouldn’t poke your nose into other matters.

but you can’t see someone in pain.

Gathering some strength knocked on the apartment. The door was opened. I sneaked in. Eyes wet, blood on the carpet, and the curtains shut. Bruses bleed seething with pain.Broken nail. Chills ran down my spine. I was young, stuck in a quagmire. I could hear her screams, cries, pleading for help. But I couldn’t help.

I waited,

Shadows are dissolving in the darkness.

I am no hero and this is not a movie,

I wrote a letter and slid under their carpet,

“Please talk to me if you ever need a friend.”

I underlined a friend with my best-colored crayon.

If she doesn’t reply or doesn’t want to open up then

it must have been the wind, must have been the wind

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Something similar happened to me when I was young, hardly 7 years old. I think so. This is what I did and recently I discovered this song by Alec Benjamin called Must Have been the Wind. It’s beautiful

The world is selfish, you can't gamble your eulogy on someone else. No one lives yourself more than you. So I decided to write my own eulogy

On writing my own eulogy,

I don’t cry, I won’t lie

Since I have died,

Let me tell you

Samina, unfortunately, isn't with us right now. (Samina can really not come to the phone right now, cause’ she’s real dead)

She must be happy unleashing the real her.

Anyway, this world never accepted her and her kids---her ideas.

She was an insecure, a little girl who was brave enough to survive this war of life, but timid to face a cockroach. She never described her anger towards anyone. When she's angry with someone she blames herself for it. And ask the other what she did wrong. She was selfless. She never learned to say no. When it comes to helping others she puts herself in trouble.

She loved the word SORRY. It’s ALSO PRINTED ON HER GRAVE. You know why she loved that word. She was afraid that she would hurt someone unknowingly and they will leave her. It’s not a new thing for her to be left alone.

Society has always rejected her new outlook on society. Today here we are holding her book in our hand. Her life was a see-saw. It was up and down. She spent all her life balancing it.

She wished that she was on the path of stardust, gold sprinkled which lightened the whole world. She had the key to a world where we can cry, smile when we feel like.

She wanted to be remembered as a person who existed. She spent so much time thinking about it that she forgot to live the present. She was self-critical, very harsh on herself. She was a hope, a hope which will never come alive, she must be enjoying in her wonderland.

She hated distances. She spent her life staying away from everyone yet close. You never feel her 100 miles distance.

She has a specific message to her friends, “Complete the song’s lyrics, drink Tea and gossips without me. Listen to Alec Benjamin when you’re down, and I am always with you.” She also said that shameless plug please buy her book while getting out of the funeral.

She spends her life wondering about oblivion. She worked her life off for people so that they remember her. If her soul is dancing around, the world is Lococo but still, they will remember you. You accomplished your last wish. She’s free, if you really will miss her then comment!

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This prompt is inspired by @cottagepoetry on Instagram

THIS IS AHHHH IF YOU REALLY KNOW ME THEN PLEASE CRY XD

When I saw you I felt something I never felt

(Not love, I felt weird, very weird)

When you were sweet to me,

(No no this is not another YA romance.)

I felt something so pure. So soothing

(No, I won't romanticize the wind blowing my hair when I see him

My hair’s always a mess and I don't blame the wind for it.)

(No don't leave)

I wouldn't romanticize our some silly moments

You always make me laugh

No, no I am not going to describe you as the world's most handsome person

You're simple yet so soothing. (He's good looking.)

No, I won't sugar coat his talks

Your talks are very simple, funny, sweet, and calming

(No, I don't like him, duh!)

I'm making a list of reasons I shouldn't like you, like Ross

But I wish I could say it worked

(No, it didn't work)

No, I don't have a crush on you

(It's just ahh attraction?)

No, no, I will get over it.

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What is this piece?

Oh, No. No. I am tired to write something better. Tho I am not satisfied with this but something is better than nothing. My eyes are soaked in tiredness, will close the eyelids to enter into another world. Maybe I could write a better piece in that world... Ahhh I am sleepy, and this is a disaster ahhh, but i love disasters *winks*

The dusty window is washed down by the downpour.

I watch the water droplets running race.

What’s so new about the water drops race.

This is human life, this is what quarantine did.

The one who wins this race first survives the wrath of Earth.

You need a blow to get the droplets down.

Similarly, you need a push to survive this year.

I waited for a blow, but I surrendered and searing the pain at every moment.

Rain touches my country once a year like a guest. But this year I wouldn’t welcome the guest. I can’t let the raindrops watch away my wounds,

When water running down me and I feel like mother earth is taking me into it

And, I might heal. No, this year we can’t go out. I can only watch the droplets race.

Wondering what the future holds.

Chilly wind touched my face, blushing with the smell of petrichor.

Every breeze is different.

One day a storm called society showed up at my door

Knock knock, is this the address of dreams.

I peeped out through the hole.

They had axe to chop of my wings.

Bleed my dreams,

kill them, and kill them.

They have been trying to kill it for years

But every time, we escape.

I decorated my dreams in a golden basket. Hide it underneath the paper mache. Ornamental paper, shiny glitter. I blew my blood into it. For years and years, I sewed each part of its body. Stayed up nights till my work is done. Shimmering candles and shining hopes. My tears were pearls that shone in the darkness, melted snow pieces. Every sweat was like spring’s rain.

I headed into my room and packed them

The suitcase was empty, restless filled in this air,

For a second,

I felt I can’t live here

It’s hard to breathe

and once I throw it out of the window

I will never see my dreams again

I can’t let them kill my dreams.

So I grabbed my dreams along with the handle and opened the door.

The society and I got into a dispute,

I am still trying to escape from the crowd,

Cacophony of words dissolve in my ears, but I cried blasphemy, surviving this catastrophe.

But

I am crying beads of bliss,

Thank goodness, I didn’t kill my dreams