Cigarette smoke

Her words are like the cigarette smoke That slowly escapes her mouth, Losing shape and form, On a quest to seek something heavenly, But melting away into something so worldly. She never cares enough for them. She never cares enough for others. Just letting them out like cigarette smoke, Because she has to, What else…

7th floor

As I slowly sip the night The night slowly eats my mind. My thoughts are sucking out my life. As I inch closer to death, I need you by my side. I don’t know where to go anymore. Where will I find you And lose myself Never to be found again. You are not in…

Obsessive Compulsive Doodle

Now you can follow us on Instagram too… obsessive_compulsive_doodle Under the name Himanshi B. (curio) The page contains all the silly doodles through the years. So see you there folks🙃

Sunrise

Not brave enough to face the world, Not strong enough to leave the world. I am just struck in the middle.   Can’t fly in the fresh air. People won’t even let me suffocate here. In this cage I am just existing.   Someone please hold me when I am crying. Someone please praise me,…

Bursting to life

I realized that I was dead inside When I didn’t feel happy for, Achieving the “best happiness of my life” No sense of accomplishment, no sense of joy. Endless anhedonia in an infinite void. I was assured of never feeling anything again. Well, I was wrong, I could still feel the pain. The pain of…

The Bread-crumb Writer

Was watching The Danish Girl, again last night just to the point where my favorite scene arrived. Not that I don’t have the option to pull forward to it but just to build up the atmosphere, I have to REACH there. It is the scene where Gerda Wegener, a portrait artist in the mid-1920s is…

The Analogy

For most of my life, I was wrong about the subject of medicine. A doctor was the mortal form of God himself. And a medical student was someone, whose life began and ended with books. But through time, I was proven wrong. For starters, our future selves, doctors, do not save lives. We are just…

Never changing, Am I ?

A story from the words of the girl itself, who was living her final days, whence came around SOMEONE. ‘Him’, that is how she referred that someone in this poem. But was he really a person or was it something else? Was she really dead? But who left at the end? The words might have…