Forbidden fruit

There’s something so dreamy about you. You’re my forbidden fruit.

You’re poetry and mystery. You’re an abyss I shouldn’t step into.

But you make my heart and soul ache. Only once in a while, I yearn to be set ablaze in your flame

But I’ve drowned, and roamed the thorny pathways. I yearn and then pay an aching price. So I dare not light a spark now

I’m in no Eden, but if I fall still, I’ll never recover and that’d be the end of me, my forbidden fruit.

Once again, once before #writephoto

You looked at me. I was staring at the shadows on the long, dark walls. They were kind of intimidating, we both agreed. It felt like we’ve gotten ourselves into something we don’t understand. This was an uncomfortable realisation. We both felt a strange, incomprehensible reason to be. It felt pleasant, and trapped at the same time. So we had to get out of it, and reminisce later. It felt like a joy in sorrow, we carried it as gloom in joy. 

We had walked down these arches many times since then. 

And I’m not sure which ones are memory, and which ones are dream.


Tales from Sue Vincent’s Thursday #writephoto challenge 

Dark #writephoto

Once again you are ready to step into the waters. 

Do you still remember the shirlls from past? Do you remember the sensation of being choked? If you do and you still are, ha! I should commend your resolution.

There is something about the water that doesn’t scare me anymore. What would you rob off of dirt? Maybe I have fulfilled my wildest fantasies. Maybe I’m the wind that knows no home. How would you enslave the air? I could escape through the cracks and suffocate you to silence. 

The sea was quiet. The air was still. Nobody wanted to take anything off her now. 

Gracefully she approached the abyss. 


For Sue Vincent’s Thursday #writephoto challenge. 

Forge #writephoto

The sight of the trees here, their aroma warms up my heart. This ground feels so familiar, it’s almost like I’m walking down my imagination. She reflected.

I never want to be away. I never want to be out of the warm embrace of these bushes. I wish I could open the doors to my heart, the same way this forest has opened its doors for me. How? It had been a long walk. Through the garden, through the cactus land, here is where I am now. 

Do you see the trees bowing the passageway? It’s almost like they just parted to make way for you. The ground, trees, bushes they all worked in harmony to let you in. They are bowing now, in submission. Their beauty is at the disposal of your adornment. They await your response, vulnerable, shy, tender hearted

Part the trees now sweetheart, you know it’s time. 


Sue Vincent’s Thursday #writephoto challenge ♥️

A lucid dream #writephoto

Every fortnight they met. The moon, the tree, and she. Dressed in moonlight, her gorgeous locks flowing in the air, caressing them, she crossed the dark mystic field without a worry in her eyes. Upon gazing her, the moon and the tree sighed. 

Step by step she walked towards her, each step felt like centuries to the tree. Even though she had to wait a fortnight, the longest was after having her in sight.

The moon blinked. He knew how tree felt about her. They often talked about how she baffled their senses. They talked in whispers about their fear of not having to see her after another fortnight. Fear was but their expression of longing, of desire and desperation. They were helpless.

What were they to call it? Love was often taken as mating of bodies. But they were mating dreams. Together was when people were bound to each other, but they were free with each other. So this was neither love, nor togetherness. 
What is it then? 

A lucid dream, you two! She giggled.


Write for Sue Vincent’s Thursday #writephoto challenge here. ❤️

One great sin #writephoto

Careful now. The portal is alluring. Its golden brick walls and a blinding light coming from the opposite end first captivates you. When you are inconveniently close, it seizes your rational thinking, your skin freezes amidst the gushes of fresh air coming from the portal while your eyes are cooled by the warm light, you no longer know which side of the portal is a dream and which is real, all you know is you want to enter it. You want to stop thinking and glide towards it, like a moth circling in a trance, gradually drifting into luring flames. What will you do? Do you think you will be able to hold yourself back?

When your life and that of every other being in this world is a consequence of Adam and Eve entering into the portal, do you think you stand a chance?

Now you stand at this end, while your greatest fascination, your validation to the life on this earth stands at the other. It is looking at you, something as magnificent as the earth in all its glory hiding behind it, the ugly bloodshed in all its brutality. But you can’t see that, can you? Not right now. Right now your heart is pounding fast, perks of adrenaline rush. While you stand barely feeling the ground underneath, waiting to make a move. In the next split second, everything will stop. The world will be suspended and you will have to choose. 

So again I ask, what will you do?

This magnificent photo is taken by Sue Vincent for her thursday #writephoto challenge. Check it out here. The theme being Portal.

Four Seasons #writephoto

She was the girl who wanted lilies. He was the boy from the maze. Why had they met? I don’t know.

Carnation, lily, lily, Rose by John Singer Sargent

When he first saw her, she was a haughty, stubborn being spending all day, everyday at the doorway of her garden waiting for something magical to happen. It was Summer time. When the sun used to be at the peak of its reign, snobbish, ruthless, depriving people of their minds and hearts. He used to be worried of what the sun might do to her tender heart so everyday he carried with himself a dense cloud of his gentle words to protect her while she sits and waits, adamant not to move.

I can fairly say now, if it wasn’t for his efforts to shade her, she could have burnt herself in the blazing sun. And for her, she didn’t take the privilege well. 

Fall came. The sun grew milder, and his cloud lost a bit of its purpose. One day sitting as usual, waiting for magic, she looked up and saw a dense cloud blocking the rays of sun from reaching her. She grew furious. She pointed at the cloud and told him that it made her days blue. She hushed it away. He silently watched. He walked away, and never came back. 

It was fall, after all. Someone was meant to lose something.

Little did she know, all this time looking ahead expecting magic to happen, she hadn’t even learnt to recognise it. For, magic was already there. She had to look up. 

Winter came. And stayed. Years went by.

She had none of the magic left in her life. Her heart was a frozen speck in a forest of perpetual winter. She could ignite it for the night, but every morning the wood was damp and the fire went out. How many snowfalls there has to be before the Spring, she didn’t know. Or would there even be one? Nobody knew. 

Perhaps the cold was a memoir to the magic that was once a part of her life. 

But she couldn’t ever figure that out.

Magic, this week’s theme for Sue Vincent’s #writephoto challenge.