There is a place in the market, where beggars sit and cry for food. At the same place, there are people who are trying multiple cuisines in a single go.
There're kids with parents and caretakers, with all the love in the world. And then there is this 3 year old kid, with no buttons in his shirt through which his little tummy is staring at all the ignorance in the world. He is walking along with his mother and his elder brother. The kid has sullen eyes and is too small to understand the sadness of his heart, but he is sad.
There're big homes with a backyard and then there're footpaths with died hopes.
There is a street through which lovers are walking holding hands, smiling at one another. In the same street, there're people wandering with a broken heart and lonely eyes.
I am walking through the layers of our society and wondering if doomsday could come sooner, so that every particle of human existence could get levelled.
- rahul a
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You don’t grow
I remember going to the sea thinking I might die there someday. Someone once told me that hypothermia is the best way to go but getting to that stage feels like hell. I must have seen more hospitals than actually beds, doctors frowning my direction in disbelief some nurses holding my hand. Telling them how I ended up here, how I fell in love with a villain, how he fucked me eyes wide open, whispering "I love you" Craving those 60 years he promised me. I threw up, ached in my own spit while still bleeding her out of me.
The first time I cried as a mother. I never held you but you are more beautiful than all the things I dream. I called you Lilli for it sounded like joyful spring. I died in that moment, I revisit it sometimes to feel you. I revisit it for the knowledge of reality. It wasn't a nightmare, I can't revive you ever. You’re unborn like my hope for happiness. Like the slowed whisper of his voice echoing away. You are real, so real almost more vividly existing than me. I let go of you every hour of each day, finding you closer smothering me than ever.
I get older but you don't grow. Envisioning your fingertips and nails, lashes, cheeks. I almost touch your face, I almost feel you wrapped against my body. Always silent, always in a hurry to fade. You are irretrievable yet so very close. When he talks about you I laugh it's the only thing I know how to survive in. I wonder if he knows the way you bleed in me. If he feels a fraction of it lingering in his own heart. I try to escape the subject yet he wants my response on his provocation "You wouldn't have been a good mom anyway." And I take a bullet through my stomach as I shrug my shoulders. He wants to be right to ease it maybe. Yet I would have started wars for you. I would have devoured the world for a singular moment of your breathing. I would have loved you so hard and vast that it goes beyond anything alive but I reply with "probably" cos he must not even believe I'm capable of being anything other than crazy. He must not even believe when I close my eyes I tremble embracing your shadow.
I lie awake at the bottom of the sea, piano waves and serenity and bleeding and bleeding. Flinch awake you’re just an earthquake in me. A storm hauntingly shrieking for my attention and I wait to depart in it. I get older but you don’t grow small ghost, you don’t grow.
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She: I'm exhausted
He: go to sleep
He pulled me close. My back to his front, his right hand bellows my neck and the other wrapped around my stomach. Our legs tangled and his breath started to even out on my neck. Sometimes in the middle of the night, he nuzzles my hair or rubs light touch on my stomach. Hours pass by and I'm still there, listening to his soft snore, blanketed with his warmth, and surrounded by his clean, fresh, citrus scent.
He: you can't sleep
He mumbled on my neck, but I kept silent. He turned me to my back and started kissing my neck. Going up to my jaw and the back of my ears. I whimper, shiver around my body, while he put a couple of fingers in me. I moan.
He: you're dry
That never stopped him though. I never get wet easily. He got down and bit my tits, while giving more pressure on side of me. I was slick and he started to pull out his fingers. In, out, in, out. He made sure to add pressure every time he got in and sucked and bitten my tits, hard. I was so close when he stopped and thrust hard into me. So hard it hurt. It's not my first time, still, he's able to stretch me so much. With not much wetness, it hurts and burns so much more. He takes speed when I'm slicker, that's and ready to come. But he stopped, balls deep in me.
I whimper and tremble. He didn't move. Instead, he poured light kisses around my face, his thumb makes a circular motion to my clit. I cry out loud.
He's torturing me. Held my orgasm and stop every time I reach my highest peak.
He: Please what Cher?
He pulled out and in at high speed and full force, then stopped. I sigh. Need him to finish me.
She: Please make me come
He: Why do you think you deserve that?
He put another light touch around my clit and moved so slowly. I'm getting wetter every second and he is still holding back.
She: I'm sorry, I really tried to sleep.
He knows I lie. I think too much it made me hard to sleep and he hates that. He hates that I argue in my head instead of talking to him. I keep silent. Holding my thoughts, while he holds my orgasm. He moves so slow, so sweet, so good and stops every time I reach my peak. Pour light kisses on my face. I close my eyes and plead. Over and over again. He won't give up. He can hold back so long it hurts my lower abdomen after stretching too long and cannot have my release. He will torture me until I talk to him. I groan when he starts wetting his hand and rubs my backdoor. He put a finger inside, and I reached my peak, again. But he pulled out.
He: mon amour.
And I cry. Tears spilled down my cheeks. He kissed them away.
She: I wonder when you will realize I'm not worth your time and leave me. I'm a mess.
He: we are all children.
He put his fingers in my anal and started to move. Slow and sweet. Light kisses pouring from my face as tears stream down. He picks up speed and gives more pressure.
He: come for me
I explode. His trust getting faster and harder and in my second orgasm, he came.
Sated. I sleep like a baby afterward.
He: I cannot promise you to not leave, but I can promise you to fight for both of us as long as I can.
He whispers when I drift to sleep. I thought that was just a dream. A good one.
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