The Mundane Artist

The sky was blue with cumulus clouds scattered around. The sun shone down its divine rays,  The kind where you could feel it seep into you.  A sort of blessing it seems.  She walked alone.  Long hair, as black as coal,  And as shiny as silk,  Hung loosely on her shoulders. Tangled, yet beautiful.  A dress so white, so pure, Hugged her body as the wind blew.  Barefoot, she stepped on the grass. And closed her eyes as she felt the soft earth below her.  Her expression was one of wander.  Her pink lips parted as she took a deep breath.  Slowly, she lay down on the grass,  And stared at the sky.  She turned her head,  And there he was.  Smiling at her.  Oh what a beautiful sight, both thought.  He walked towards her, and lay beside her.  Her eyes full of bursting emotion,  Yet no tear.  "You mesmerize me," he whispered,  And ...

She sat there, reminiscing every memory alive. One memory, a thousand teardrops. She remembered his touch, his voice, his eyes, his smile. And then she looked at the photo, digesting every ounce of anger and hatred and sadness and pain that she felt. She turned her face away from the photo, only to witness another face. A face so swollen, so lost and so broke, A face that showed determination to stay strong, yet failed. A face she loved to see, and now hated for no reason. The serenity of white had all gone. It only reminded her of death. “What have I done to deserve this?” she screamed silently, Wanting an answer so desperately that she felt going through a labyrinth was easier. The sound of his laughter still rang through the house, A last time perhaps, before leaving the house forever and silencing silence. I wondered this dark episode in her life. A contemplation of me in her place. And I die to even think about it, What would I do without ...

Hello! I bid you welcome to my blog. I was introduced to writing by my best friend. Now not mentioning my best friend is not possible, because she was one who persuaded me and helped me through all of this. Even this blog that you see, is because of her guidance. She is a beautiful person, and more so a beautiful writer. When I started to write, I was mesmerized by the power of words. I am an avid reader and when I read a book, it gives me such pleasure to feel the words hit my mind. I think books are the only thing that I actually take seriously. You know how parents complain about how their children don't listen to them but listen to some outsider? For me, books are the outsiders. The thing is, I just love words. Be it written or spoken. The first time I wrote I was scared. Scared about the fact that I am not good enough or what will people think? To be honest, I didn't tell my best friend about writing for 6 months after I started. She was furious when I finally sent h...