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the mistress | I'm a mess. Let's sort it.

I'm a mess. Let's sort it.

http://iamrikabose.wordpress.com/

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the mistress | I'm a mess. Let's sort it. | iamrikabose.wordpress.com Reviews
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I'm a mess. Let's sort it.
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the mistress | I'm a mess. Let's sort it. | iamrikabose.wordpress.com Reviews

https://iamrikabose.wordpress.com

I'm a mess. Let's sort it.

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1

iamrikabose | the mistress

https://iamrikabose.wordpress.com/author/iamrikabose

I'm a mess. Let's sort it. The cold blade stings when i drag it across my skin,. Blood on my tongue from biting down on my lips too hard,. The pain is so beautifully distracting,. And i’m tired of always thinking about your skin against mine. I cut again after too many years, and i don’t know how/why i stopped). My nightmares were always about you walking away from me. I ran behind you, but you somehow managed to vanish in the dark, unwilling to be found. And I think of you with love. I never ever imagin...

2

of self-destruction | the mistress

https://iamrikabose.wordpress.com/2015/08/05/of-self-destruction

I'm a mess. Let's sort it. And you won’t;. Did you really have to leave? Do you remember that night you came to my window with a ring? A proposal to love each other forever? A ring to wear on my finger every day, for the rest of my life, as a reminder that we were one? And do you remember holding me while I cried another night, because I couldn’t imagine being away from you, and you wiped off my tears, and kissed my forehead, and promised you’d never leave? Leave a Reply Cancel reply. You are commenting ...

3

did you really have to leave? | the mistress

https://iamrikabose.wordpress.com/2015/08/11/did-you-really-have-to-leave

I'm a mess. Let's sort it. You are Beautiful →. Did you really have to leave? And suddenly, just like that, everything stopped making sense. My world stopped rotating. There was no difference in the night and the days. My lips forgot how to smile, and my eyes couldn’t stop searching for you. It is with a very heavy heart, that I realise all over again, just like every other day, that you’d rather not love me anymore. 2 thoughts on “ did you really have to leave? August 12, 2015 at 8:54 pm.

4

the mistress | I'm a mess. Let's sort it. | Page 2

https://iamrikabose.wordpress.com/page/2

I'm a mess. Let's sort it. Newer posts →. So, what do you think it’s like, to be in love with someone who doesn’t love you back? He asks me, genuine confusion in his eyes. It’s like looking up at the night sky and seeing the big, beautiful stars, so close to you but you can’t touch them. It’s like the cup of morning tea you need to gulp down in a rush, burning your tongue in the process (but you don’t care because you love your tea, don’t you? 28/03, 2:01 AM] rika:. As for my beliefs, I believe in magic.

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February | 2015 | UrbanSanyaasi

https://urbansanyaasi.wordpress.com/2015/02

Fiction, Reviews, Articles. The Stitcher and The Storyteller (A perpetually incomplete lust). February 19, 2015. February 19, 2015. February 12, 2015. She was a freak who wanted the world in a straight line. He was a pervert who erected every object at a right angle. She was a freak who couldn’t decide anything. He was a pervert who skewed morality till it resembled a childhood lost. They were wanderers of the world and of their bodies and their minds and their bookshelves and their suitcases and their d...

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Rajeev Vaishnav | UrbanSanyaasi

https://urbansanyaasi.wordpress.com/author/rajeevroark

Fiction, Reviews, Articles. June 4, 2016. June 4, 2016. The cloud went kamikaze somewhere up there,. She did not, down below, in here. A sheet of river, cut in millions, dropped,. The facade on her well-honed cheeks did not. The paint peeled off the walled like scabs,. Once pinned to its sodden stretch, she could not. The sky shed all it had within the hour and heaved,. She tried holding back from doing so, but could not. A bright deep shade of fairy orange and cadmium skin,. Then the hooks dig in, a nic...

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Invitation. | UrbanSanyaasi

https://urbansanyaasi.wordpress.com/2015/08/10/invitation

Fiction, Reviews, Articles. August 10, 2015. August 10, 2015. Coffee cups, whiskey pegs, old books,. Your skin your breasts and the ridge of the ribs. Dear girl, from past, recent and distant. Stop waiting,love, you have no fear. The night has passed, the day aged to perfection. The amber evening comes slow and long. It knows you want soft touch on stiff flesh. Let it, let it, on you, around, inside you. Open your bronzed thighs and fill the world. With the aroma of your hesitant lust and want. You are c...

urbansanyaasi.wordpress.com urbansanyaasi.wordpress.com

July | 2015 | UrbanSanyaasi

https://urbansanyaasi.wordpress.com/2015/07

Fiction, Reviews, Articles. July 23, 2015. July 23, 2015. She told me once she went to this slum and the children there all elbowed each other to sit in her lap as she took selfies with all of them. A patient slew of photographs with brightened faces. I always loved hearing her. When I kissed her navel, her stories reverberated in her body and she became the woman who served and fed me stories after stories. I always wondered about the life she had when I was not by her side. Was it crowded? 8221; I said.

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Infrequent | UrbanSanyaasi

https://urbansanyaasi.wordpress.com/2015/06/25/infrequent

Fiction, Reviews, Articles. June 25, 2015. June 25, 2015. I see you now and I cannot write. I see no imperfections in you anymore. There are no flaws. You are collarbones and courtesies. You are navel and knowledge. You’ve stopped wrapping your fingers around the cups of coffee. You look at the clocks. You don’t look at the bookshelves. You’re a woman out in the world. Why did we not change together? Why do our bodies not fit inside each other anymore? When did we start using answers to win over others?

urbansanyaasi.wordpress.com urbansanyaasi.wordpress.com

Spot | UrbanSanyaasi

https://urbansanyaasi.wordpress.com/2015/07/23/spot

Fiction, Reviews, Articles. July 23, 2015. July 23, 2015. She told me once she went to this slum and the children there all elbowed each other to sit in her lap as she took selfies with all of them. A patient slew of photographs with brightened faces. I always loved hearing her. When I kissed her navel, her stories reverberated in her body and she became the woman who served and fed me stories after stories. I always wondered about the life she had when I was not by her side. Was it crowded? 8221; I said.

urbansanyaasi.wordpress.com urbansanyaasi.wordpress.com

Swing | UrbanSanyaasi

https://urbansanyaasi.wordpress.com/2015/04/05/swing

Fiction, Reviews, Articles. April 5, 2015. Only teens who think naked bodies are a privilege or the prudes who ironically think nudity of a lover is a right to proclaim. I am neither. I don’t know what I am unless I am inside her. Half lit cigarette has no point unless they are sucked on and color the lungs. I have no point unless inside her and coloring my flesh. I don’t want that. I want her. Us. On knees. Eagle spread. Belly down. Face in hair. Cock in cunt. Tongu...8220;I feel the same.”. I tell her&...

urbansanyaasi.wordpress.com urbansanyaasi.wordpress.com

July | 2014 | UrbanSanyaasi

https://urbansanyaasi.wordpress.com/2014/07

Fiction, Reviews, Articles. Why we will never be human. July 4, 2014. July 4, 2014. We will never be humans. We will be just social animals. We will never be humans. Because we think war is about winning. Like it is a damn game on a cardboard. And we make sons and daughters jump and kill and be butchered. And we will never be humans. Because when you are pierced with enough pieces of metal,. They’ll pin one more shiny piece on your memory to nail it down. We will never be humans. We will never be humans.

urbansanyaasi.wordpress.com urbansanyaasi.wordpress.com

September | 2014 | UrbanSanyaasi

https://urbansanyaasi.wordpress.com/2014/09

Fiction, Reviews, Articles. September 10, 2014. September 10, 2014. At the center of every human universe,. The opposite of a black hole exists. A radiant, illuminated, pulsating existence. A woman who is all about conferences and carnality. She is the sensual realist. Sharp eyes and loose tresses. One unbuttoned window in to her flesh. One vault of star steel in her eyes. She’s the opposite of an information paradox. The antithesis of annihilation. A progenitor of prose and verse. Over a Cup of Tea.

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the mistress | I'm a mess. Let's sort it.

I'm a mess. Let's sort it. Did you really have to leave? And suddenly, just like that, everything stopped making sense. My world stopped rotating. There was no difference in the night and the days. My lips forgot how to smile, and my eyes couldn’t stop searching for you. It is with a very heavy heart, that I realise all over again, just like every other day, that you’d rather not love me anymore. Do you remember that night you came to my window with a ring? A proposal to love each other forever? I have e...

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