Masculinity

Looking in the mirror I saw my vehemence against myself surpass. My misogyny overpowered me. Clenched hands, sweat through my sideburns were a result of my physical stretch. ,My eyes red, angered not guilty, withered not anxious, They gave me a view of myself- my gaunt self. The sense of power and dominance devoid me of my sanity. Her shrieks were my victory, her cries were my laughs, her weaknesses were my demons- Oh! my demons were my death. Shaky, sweaty, red, vulnerable, weak, shivering, lost- that day I saw my real masculinity.

Courage is the act of the lovers

I could feel it, the spaces between our twined fingers- A similar kind of void in my heart. A series of neglected emotions passed through it, making me shudder at the very thought of acknowledging them. My passions knew no bounds, his never really existed. A traumatic convenience emerged in the presence of our dislocated feelings. In scenarios I imagined myself sulkily, my love for him was braver than his ignorance of the same. We were together but the gaps were yet to be filled. Courage is the act of the lovers we hadn't yet squandered.

Oh february !

You instill in me those feelings, those feelings of blending chasms. A sensuous trip- my heart leaps. You enfeeble my sanity with your white snowy picturesque- the gutta of my warm blood would never want to spoil but it rushes through my veins in tumultuous agitation, desperate to stain. Your serenity I wants to claim, your mist cold face I want to hold- proclaim and gain. Your ironical calmness I so desire, it withholds my passions by blemishing my vision. Oh february ! she precedes you in beauty.