Writer's own thoughts!

I am my own judge, I am examining my standards, my limits, my bounds, my strength, my dreams, my surroundings, my patience.  With every interactions, with each occurrence,  With every incidents and daily events,  I click the check boxes what trigger me and what not, and how I react.  Which circumstances denote my strength, which shows weakness, I am my biggest judge, I judge my own show,  I see myself performing, How well I perform,  I clap and punish me for my performance.  What an eminence radiates through your determination.  Sometimes, I check how willful I am. They tell me I am stubbornly determined,  Adamant on purpose! So, I examine my stubbornness.  My rigidity that I have built after patience, After so many upheavals.  At times, the heart felt heavy, The lungs so heavy as if failed, I couldn’t breath, I used to hold my tears, Still, I struggle controlling my triggers and fears, They tend to fall out from my eyes as if pearl...

  Ordinary spreads quietly on the shore sideways,  Not like fire but rust settling on iron. Like dust building home on the web of spiders,  Idly sitting on bookshelves where old books remain untouched and unsettled. The unbothered pages of the classics remain forgotten. They live with cracks and fractions and fragments. Fragrance of the old invites those who live in the past timelines, Who adores old alleys in old towns where old books are piled. That reminds them of the fragrance of their old love, old souls, old memories, Old wine, old smoke in the eyes, velvety soft delights. Old stem of flower begs attention for rebirth, Rebirth through flame of desire that is ash now, Lit through the smoke of remains, The ashes of bones. Ordinary teaches us to remain placid. But, can a racehorse stand still? It orders the room to remain dim light, To lower its voice, to edit the sharper tone, To adjust the expressions on your face, To round off the edges that would admonish thousands...

 They said that when the henna on the skin gets darker after removal, and the color intensifies, The next lover will love you with unbearable intensity, With sheer determination that breeds persuading obsession and passion. The illicit gambling of hearts pounds for compelling possessions.  The hands want to possess what the heart cannot. The eyes want to stare at what sight does not allow. The lips want to touch the forbidden,  But, the mind reminds of chaos.  So, I spent hours on it,  Designing, weaving, creating. Every layers, every stroke of art as if speaks of my unblown desires. I have opened my palm like a love letter, A confession.  Yes, I love to see your face, but it reminds me of my past lover whom I did not spare.  A glimpse of yours would make my day, But, I let it slide.  Just as I let the stroke of line glide.  I let the paste dry into prophecy, It gets dark red, darker with night- just like my thoughts, just like my wildest ima...

Hands like pearls, used to stroke your hair.  Hands like pearls, used to adore your face. Hands like pearls, used to take care of you.  Hands like pearls, used to write your name in sands, Draw your face in the stars.  Hands like pearls, used to weave poems for you, Stitching her pain.  Hands like pearls, used to make your favourite delicacies, would chant your name.  Hands like pearls were only crafted for you, But, you handicapped her.  So, she was forced to leave your hands.  Your hands were made of steels,  They slitted her veins. So much blood shed.  Her hands of pearls were covered with blood so red.  Red in hatred.  ©® Farheen Akter Bhuian Nancy  Timestamp: 2.18 pm, Tea bar

The nectar knew what it was doing. It was conspiring intimacy between two unequals.  The unmatched saga of honey bee and the flower then begins. Don't tell me that the tulip bloomed in innocence- She didn’t know what her blossom invited. Rose petals do not unfold unaware  without the traces of hunger tucked beneath their fair laces. They embrace the braced thorns imbued with fragrance.  Fragrance that can make a drunkard more drunken.  Fresh bloomed flowers tilted their delicate stem toward the sun, But, waited for a warmer grip of heat,warmer than the scorching heat of sun rays. They were waiting for a trembling wing, A body that slowly hums with exclusive clarity and claims. The honey bee did not enter the valley of tulip roses as a villain.... No, He was summoned in fragrance, Invited by a naive sweetness that rehearsed its own unfolding,  Undoing its own doing. The magic that the fragrance hides,  The delicacy, the tenderness that the colorful petals ca...

 After you, I have learnt how to paint my hands with colors. Colors of self-love, confidence and admiration.  After you, I have learnt sunsets can also be beautiful just as sunrises,  They denote- Endings are new beginnings too!  After you, I know there are two forms of love that is so pure, one for universe and the other for the self. We distribute other love from the fullness of these two.  After you, I have known my worth, the meaning of life and found myself.  I had to lose you to find me.  After you, life has never been the same.  Each time I grew stronger.  Each time more bold and hopeful. I am living my life fullest.  After you, I have become the full moon- unbothered and undivided.  ©®Farheen Akter Bhuian Nancy  Timestamp: 9.06 am, Officer's mess

 Dear NZ,  You know, I have lost my first love in the havoc of inauspicious time.  Still, I regret the misfortune.  That unfortunate period of my life.  Now, that I have turned around the wheel of time and I look back, I think of what could have been and what could be avoided.  Now, that I cannot retreat, I give people advice.  I mend every broken heart and tell them,  Do not lose your first love.  It's ethereal and unreal,   Unparalleled and uncompelled.  You won't find another love so great, So pure! Cherish your first love like It's forever! ©® Farheen Akter Bhuian Nancy  Timestamp: 4.52 pm, Tagar

 I am an identity, I am a character,  An image and imagery, A symbol, A role,  A sage, A sire. I am not simply an anomaly of the person,  Or, the emblem that you see is not what it seems. I am not simply a person whom you can sway with sweet words. I read people.  I observe them beyond their words. I listen to their stories, Their deepest desires,  Their wounds and hurts,  I understand their trauma,  Relate to their losses,  I study the bereaved. I heal them. That's why people think they are attached to me whereas I keep my distance.  I detach from all longings,  And, attachments.  Because, attachment might open new doors of depth but it may also create a whirlpool of devastations.  Not for you, but for me.  My visions will get blurred or heightened.  Who knows!  But, I have always suffered in the surge of attachments.  Or, am I glorifying my inability?!  Who knows!  I don't know either. ...

 Why does your heart tremble for fleeting moments?!  For positional people, situations and things?!  Even the waves of oceans don't remember when they kissed the shores, Even the sky keeps changing it's color, Even the bird folks change their nests,  Their feathers. Even the snakes sheds its own skin in seasons.  Then, why do you weep for changes?! Whatever is meant to stay will stay,  And, whatever is meant to change will go away.  Wither away like weathers, Change like fallen seasons. The cloud that is pouring heavy will soon be light. The sky that holds them soon will clear its site- To hold stars and satellites, To hold constellations beneath. The old is always replaced by the new. Don't weep for the old.  They were never meant to stay the same, It was their fate that they followed.  Even you are not the same anymore.  Every shedding shredded your layers and built anew.  Soon you won't be the same,  Every color that honored...

 The plant that I have sown in my heart is dead,  All the flowers are dead.  They are dead because I gave another place, The displaced wooden rose interfered into their weary hut. They are all dead.  The corpses scream for mortgage.  They scream for an autopsy.  They want me to know their cause of death.  All the flowers are dead now,  So, is the plant sown in my heart. It is dead and dehydrated in absence of unconditional love that's faithful and desire that would burn the old views. In the missing report, it was written- Emptiness replaced excitement!  Aloofness replaced horror of communications! ©® Farheen Akter Bhuian Nancy  Timestamp: 1.30 pm, Tagar 

 Harmony of thoughts, words and deeds can make one a wholesome person,  If your actions doesn’t match with your words and your deeds are not aligned with your thoughts, Beware then, you'll have to face the consequences!  Alignment of holy trinity of actions, wisdom and emotions can bring the desired inner peace and reflect in the outer ward,  Because, whatever you keep inside anyhow comes out later!  Collectively, the influence and the imitation of the actions can result in a massive inundation,  Get into the matrix or break it by revolution,  Either you evolve in the process of evolution or  we need some sorts of correction,  Be ready for the circumstances,  Be ready for the acceptance, Accepting the change makers!  Do you know who are the change makers?! Do you recognize them?! They are closer to you bringing changes in themselves first then thinking always about the worldly welfares,  Hail to their wisdom and hard work,...

 The tormentors want love from me now. They want devotion.  Is love and devotion a joke to them?! Easily found and discarded?!  The tormentor wanted me to capture lifelong, To burn in his spell eternally.  The monster in him wanted to devour,  Every hour,  But, he forgot love doesn’t occur in confinement.  Where souls can't meet, lovers can't unite. Where souls can't understand each other's silence, love cannot blossom, bodies don't recognize.  The body rejects what the soul can't have.  The mind rejects what it doesn’t understand.  The heart rejects what it can't feel.  The lover departs when one feels constrained. You cannot expect someone to love you, After you have exploited them. Exploited the reasons,  The moments, The innocence.  You cannot have the best when you force it. Any form of maleficence is not worthy of the quiet innocence.  Not anymore.  Nevermore. They wants love after the damage they've done! ...

 Your love is a curse to me.  I was bewildered, misguided and misrepresented.  Your love is a curse to me.  I am still trying to break free from the spell.  Still, burning in the blaze.  Your love is a curse,  It knows to possess, not to release.  Your love is a curse,  It knows to control, not to surrender.  Your love is a curse,  It cursed my life with lifelong fears and abandonments.  Your love is a curse,  You are a cursed lover.  Your darkness shadowed my life.  Your love is a curse,  Like a potion you poisoned me.  Ruined all the good in me.  Your love is a curse,  There is no balm. No emblem of cure.  Your love is a curse,  Till death do I hate you from the last drop of my blood.  I hate you from the last breath of my lungs,  I hate you till the end of my life,  I hate your face, your name, your character.  I hate the time I have spent with you - the cursed...

 Who suffers, Adrian?!  Those who do everything deeply.  They love deeply,  They think deeply,  They care deeply.  So, they suffer.  They eternally suffer in the world of temporality. They suffer quietly, silently, utterly, immensely. They suffer.  But, people around them are unbothered.  Sometimes, they are too!  Unbounded by any situations,  They keep moving.  Moving destinations are their destiny. Moving and meeting new people, Then, storing memories of them.  In their memories they meet again, Sip coffee and have a conversation together. You know blue is the color of suffering,  White of purity, and,  Yellow of youthfulness.  All the three cannot collide. They dim each other and become black.  Dark hue black. They consume each other's light. And, at the end of the day, do you know who wins?! It's my buddy sufferings!  I have befriended him. He is so fond of me now that he never leaves me. My po...

 Is it a crime to show happiness?  After all the interruptions and disruptions?!  Is it a crime to show happiness?  After all the sufferings that you suffer?! Is it a crime to be with someone for whom your heart flutters?!  Is it a crime to love freely as birds do chirp and hold each others? Tell me, is it a crime to be oneself?! Or, was it a crime that once I loved you a lot?! More than any bounds,  More than the oceans,  More than the sky could hold the clouds,  More than any vessel could contain.  Tell me, was it a crime to be so free, fierce and blind in love?!  Your love has caused me death.  I have resurrected as a corpse now,  A dead shell.  Do I suffocate you?! Or, am I suffocating myself?! ©® Farheen Akter Bhuian Nancy  Timestamp: 11.57 am, Tagar

When you are tired of playing all the hide and seek games,  All those catching the fish in the net and shooting the bird games, With all your charm they get unarmed,  Unpolished and bare.  When you are tired of all these sick games. Come to me with purified heart and secluded mind.  A like-minded enthusiast attracts the equals. Be my equal to meet me halfway.  When you are tired of all the experimentations, Come to me, I have my arms wide open for a refined person.  A transformed soul whom the alchemy of love and loss has touched upon.  When you will love me,  You'll know - no other love could touch your soul.  When you will touch me,  You'll know- no other skin has ever felt so soft. When you will taste me, You'll know- no other tasted better, They have never read your soul.  When you will be with me,  Then you will be whole.  No other soul has ever looked into your eyes like me before.  I can see tiredness there. I ...

 When I sit alone,  I am actually not alone.  I am into my head,  Conversing with people I never met.  When I sit alone,  I am actually not alone. I am into my head. Talking with people whom I briefly met.  I prolong the conversation,  That we could have had!  I elongate the discussion that we never had!  I teach them to surrender and I surrender myself to them. That actually never happened,  Because, lately the last thing I would like to do is to surrender.  Surrender the self that I have built after storms. Surrender my dignity that I have saved at the brink of fallout.  Surrender the worth that I have carefully curated after the optimal loss,  Surrender my beautiful mind that I have created after the chaos.  I cannot even surrender my body that is yet to be built after ruining it all.  I cannot surrender my breath that costs me so much- an image of a perfect bloom that I am on the verge of becoming, After...

 The love that I kill,  Slowly poison by, The infatuation that I strangle with my own hands, slowly and gradually, one by one.  I am an emotional serial killer. I kill emotions.  I am an emotional serial killer,  I murder infatuations.  Oh, I feel guilty.  Guilty and regretful as hell. I live in hellish fire and come out as fierce flame that puts them all ablaze.  I kill them all.  I kill their emotions- one by one,  I am a slayer of their pure innocence.  Innocently, they approach me,  They think I am vast, easy and flowy as ocean. But, I am a conflicting conundrum,  A silent paradox in motion.  I kill their emotions.  A slayer of hearts. I ruin all the good in them.  I destroy what could be amicable,  Beautiful and light.  What could bring delight.  I kill all the emotions.  I am a serial emotional killer,  Someone arrest me.  I should rot in the emotional bars as I do always!...

 You know Adam, Eve can forget the snakes and the apple of discords in heavens,  Later what followed her,  The stingy stones till she was atoned to death in her solace. She can forget whoever touched her beyond fences, the monsters, the insects, the worms, the wolves in the woods- who didn’t ask for her mercy nor consent.  She can forget in between whoever has ever come in disguise of Columbus,  Who would guide her tiresome way.  She can forget those trials that actually delayed her destiny to meet Adam, Somewhere beyond deserts,  Beyonds mirages and canals- in other continent.  Yet, she had a whole another world to cross to meet her destined one.  She had to cross thousands and miles of distance to be with the chosen ones.  Whatever was in between with an imposter,  It was a rampage, a complete disaster!  Whatever comes her way now is a distraction!  She can forget those by minimal interactions! But, how to forget the hea...