Talking To You


Talking to you was easy,

Once upon a time.

I could see you

I could feel your presence

I could reach out to you

Today, we are so far apart

All I can do is tap on this keyboard

And hope that you read what I want to say

Not the words, no.

The thought, the feel, the emotion

The knot in my throat

The smile on my face

The goosebumps on my arm

The water in my wet hair

I know you do not feel that

Because tapping here on this keyboard

Is not the same as

Talking to you.


This post has been written for picture it & write  by ermilia

The Broken Bride


She was happy just thinking about what she wanted. She wanted a spectacular wedding. A groom who would dote on her. A mother who would cry as she walked down the aisle. A father who would look at her with utmost affection as he walked her down the aisle. The melody of the harp soothing her nerves. And the red roses all around.

She was happy thinking about what she wanted. But she knew she could never have what she wanted. They had made sure of that. The military, the soldiers, the bombings. They had taken away all that she had. Her perfect groom, her loving parents, her best friends and everyone else who even looked familiar. All that was left was the wait. The wait for the next bombing, the next night when the hungry soldiers would come to hunt, the next time she would actually have food to eat.

But she dreamt and thought and wondered. And she was happy when she did that. She knew that her days were numbered. Until the day it all ended. The pain that was beyond tolerance, the hunger that never ceased, the darkness that never lost.

And she saw a flash. Something close to a million cameras being flashed at her. And she saw them all. The groom, the parents, the friends. And she was happy. The broken bride was happy.


This post has been written for picture it & write  by ermilia

Who Am I?

I am proud

Of stupid things under the sun

Of how my nails look or how many shoes I have or just the fact that I have grown up

Yes, of course I have my lows when I don’t know if I’m worth anything

But, I am proud

I am emo

No, I don’t have black nails or hair that cover up three quarters of my face

But little things move me

Stupid, little things

Doesn’t mean anyone can fool me by putting up an act

But, I am emo

I am pretty

There are days when I look at myself and smile at what I see

Doesn’t mean I don’t have bad days

There are so many things I wish I could change about me

But, I am pretty

I am strong

Nope, not physically

But I have the strength to face whatever shit life offers

Of course I have my share of helpless days when I pray the world ends right there

But, I am strong

I am confident

I can face a crowd with a smile on my face, look them dead in the eye and say what I have to say

Stages draw me towards them

I feel vibrant under those yellow lights facing numerous strangers

Still, I am absolutely jittery right before I step onto a stage

I freak out

But, I am confident

I am lonely

There are times when I am surrounded by people but don’t even know if any one of them knows me

I don’t think anyone can ever know me, or anyone, for that matter

But I do have a lot of friends

And I have so many people who love me and I love them

But, I am lonely

I am alive

The music that is playing in the background right at this moment

The breeze that is trying so hard to dry my wet hair

The baby crying across the street

All these things make me feel alive

Of course I have those moments when everything seems surreal

When I don’t know if I exist

But, I am alive

I am all these things

And a little more

But I’m still not absolutely sure

Who am I?


This post has been written for picture it & write by ermilia

The Urge To Wander

I love my Mom. She’s beautiful and funny and understanding and amazing. She knows so much about so many things. She travels a lot, you know. A lot. She buys me stuff from all those places that she visits. All those far-off mysterious lands. But she has a lot of friends that she travels with. And I live with my Grandmom when she is gone. But even when she’s here we live with Grandma.

I wished my Mom would live with me. I wish she would be here when I get back from school everyday. I wish we could just walk to the market on Saturdays like so many of my friends. But she is different. She doesn’t like living at one place, she tells me. She loves moving around. “The urge to wander is too big than the urge to live a life”, she says. I don’t get that. All my friends have their mothers living with them. They don’t give a shit about the “urge to wander”, whatever that means.

She’s been back for the past 10 days now. I love it! I love hugging her and sleeping. I love the smell of her hair. I just love my Mom. Especially when she’s around. Me and her are about to take a walk now. I love walking with her on the bridge. It feels like I have her all to myself. I love that.

Today we are talking about the time she was my age. 10 is the perfect age to be, she tells me. I am happy. She has these long, dark hair that I wish I had. I love looking at her talk to me. The weather is nice today. I like foggy days. They just have this mystery to them. Makes me feel like a detective. The curtains of fog are the secret I have to unveil.

“What are you smiling about”, my Mom says. Oops, I forgot she was here.

“I think I have to leave today, sweetheart”, she says.

“When will you be back?”, I’m shocked.

“In another couple of months.”

“You always say that and you’re gone for almost a year all the time. I don’t want you to go away”, I scream.

“Do not scream at your mother!”

“You are the one who’s always leaving and I’m the one who’s stuck living here with Grandma. Take me with you.”

“Sweety, you can’t come to the places I visit. You’re too young.”

“But I don’t want to be too young. I wanna come with you. I wanna be with you all the time”, I cry.

“Let’s just sit on the parapet like we always do and we’ll decide later if you can come.”

I know she’s lying. She always lies. About taking me with her the next time. About coming back in the next couple of months. About not knowing who my father is. She is always lying.

I climb on the parapet with her. And we sit side by side swinging our legs like all the other times that she has left. She is pretending as if nothing has happened. I’m sick of her going away. I don’t want her to go away. I want her to myself. She’s my Mother. I deserve that she’s around all the time. I look at her. She’s beautiful and I love her. More than I can ever tell her. But I want her for myself.

She’s saying something. I smile. Her eyes are beautiful. So is her smile. Her dimple. Her teeth are perfect. I wish I could just keep her with me forever. And then I know. I look at her swinging her legs and I give her a shove. She screams. I think she’s trying to hold on to me. She fails. I see her falling towards the curtain of fog. She is staring at me and screaming.

“Don’t worry Mom. I’m going to be with you. Always”, I smile to myself.

My Mom is not going anywhere. I’m happy. I really love her, you know.


This post has been written for picture it & write by ermilia

Little Mistakes

Alicia knew she wasn’t the best of people around. Everyone is allowed to be stupid once in a while, right? At least they are supposed to be when they are fifteen. And so was she. Stupid and careless and a little off the track. But at that point of time, she never really thought of the consequencesd. Of how they would affect her. Of how they would alter her life forever. Of how she would never go back to being a kid again. Ever.

It was a school party, she remembered. And she was smothered by teenage love. She had been waiting for it to happen and just when she was starting to lose hope, Cupid’s arrow had sliced her heart. She knew they were made for each other. They were meant to be together. What she did not know was that their drunken fervor and blind passion would leave her pregnant and shattered.

His parents sent him away for high school immediately and nothing ever was mentioned about being “made for each other”. She was left alone, fifteen and pregnant. All she could do about her kid was give her away for adoption. That was her best option out. They found a nice little family for her, she was told. She did not even have the heart to look at her daughter before they took her away.

All of this flashed through her mind on that September morning, when she was taking a shower. She had thought taking a bath would help calm her nerves. If anything, it had managed to make her even more jittery. She was going to meet her daughter today, seventeen years after giving her away to the nice little family. They called her Megan. She would never have liked that name for her daughter. But then she was not her daughter anymore, Alicia reminded herself.

She took her time getting dressed. She had regretted giving Megan away 5 minutes after they took her. She had thought having a baby would never let her make a life for herself. Alicia knew she had been wrong. Not having her baby had stopped her from making a life for herself.

She was scared. Scared that Megan wouldn’t like her. Scared that Megan would be so different, she wouldn’t have anything to say to her. But she had to take her chance. She had waited seventeen years for this and finally she had the courage to face her daughter. As she took her car keys she knew everyone made little mistakes. She’d just made her share of them. But today, she was going to try to amend one of those little mistakes. She was finally going to see her daughter.


This post has been written for picture it & write by ermilia

The Chase

The moment he entered the bar, the first thing he saw was her. She sat at the bar with her lazy drink. Long legs crossed on the tall bar stool. One hand holding her drink, the other folded on her chest. Blood red backless dress with tiny intertwined knots just below the nape of her neck. Hair tied up in a chignon that accentuated her tall neck. Oh! The neck and the back and the long legs! He knew he had to talk to her.

He was wondering what his approach should be. There was something oddly tantalizing about her. And yet he knew that she was the no-nonsense-type. Chic, reserved and sophisticated. And she was new around here, that he was sure of. Otherwise he would have known who she was. He was just about to make a move on her, when she suddenly turned her head towards him and looked him directly in the eye as if somehow she sensed his gaze. Her expression turned to one of  amusement as if she could hear him think.

He noted the big doe eyes. Coffee brown in color. Huge lashes. Pretty brows. Long, thin nose. And lips matching her dress. She still had that amused expression on her face and he thought, he needn’t have worried so much. She already seemed pretty interested. Otherwise  why would their eyes be still locked on to each other’s? This was gonna be easy. He was going to grab the stool next to her. And just at that moment, in one fluid motion she was on her feet. And before he could make a move, she crossed the whole length of the bar to walk to the smoking zone. As she put her hand to open the door, he noted the long, slender fingers with red nails. And she disappeared beneath the cloud of smoke.

He followed her inside. It didn’t take him long to spot her. She was sitting on the couch at the end of the room with a cigarette in her hand. As he watched her he realized there was something oddly sensual about the way she smoked. The red finger tips, the cigarette and the flirting smoke that arose through the red lips. And the look in her eyes. Provoking, challenging as if she was daring him to make a move.

He was so entwined in the image of her, so lost in absorbing the beauty of her that it came as a mild shock to him when she turned towards the person she was sitting next to. He hadn’t noticed anyone except her in the room. She gave him one last look  through the corner of her eye as she locked her lips with the man besides her. He felt as if someone punched him in the stomach when he saw the wedding band on her hand with the red nails as she dug them in her husband’s hair.


This post has been written for picture it & write by ermilia

The Night Goes On…

Linda knew she was horribly late. Her Mom was again gonna be all fussy about her new job. She could already hear Mom yelling ‘Why do you have to take up a job so far away? Why do you have to work so late?’ Mothers, she thought, shaking her head, they would never accept you were a grown up. Okay, so yeah, maybe it was a little too late today, even for own her liking, but she was enjoying the drive. She mostly had the road to herself except for the occasional stray dog and the owl hoots. It was a peaceful, starlit, half moon night and the road was long and lonely. She liked that after the day she’d had. The empty stretches of fields on both sides of the road were beautiful in their own way.

She was lost in her own thoughts when she thought she heard someone. Was it a scream? She decided to step on the gas pedal a little more and get the hell out of there. That’s when she heard it again. But it was not a scream. Definitely not. She slowed down to try to catch what whoever it was was trying to say. And she heard someone crying and yelling out for help. Linda stopped the car and tried to peer through the night. It was a little difficult to see considering the limited lighting. The cry sounded as if it belonged to someone really young.

Okay, so she was not a really courageous woman. Even thinking about getting out of the car and checking who it was gave her the creeps. But what if someone really needed her help? She had to go check. The field was quite empty with the occasional weeds sprouting here and there. So she decided to take the car in the field. If it was something or someone creepy she could just turn back, step on the gas pedal and leave.

It took her every ounce of courage she had to get in that field. And right there standing in front of her in the sweep of her headlights was a young girl of not more than 12. Tall and lanky, freckled face, button nose, cropped hair and quite pale. She had tears streaming down her cheeks and a running nose. Just looking out at her made Linda feel like getting out of the car and hugging her. There was just something so vulnerable in the way she was standing there.

Linda was busy scrutinizing her, when the girl said, “Will you please take me home to my Mom? I’m a little scared to walk back.”

Linda’s heart reached out to her and she said,”Yes, of course, sweety, hop in! Tell me where you live and I’ll take you.”

A ghost of a smile flitted across the girl’s face, “I live not far from here. I can tell you the way.”

Linda gave her a hearty smile, “Sure” and the girl climbed in the car. Linda extended her hand, “I’m Linda. What’s your name?”

The girl just stared at Linda’s outstretched hand and said, “I’m Amy. And my Mom has told me not to shake hands with strangers.”

Linda tried to hide her smile. “Fair enough”, she said.

As she turned the car back on the road, Amy seemed to get a little more comfortable and started talking. About her school, their farm, her brother Rick who annoyed her so much. Linda was really looking forward to a drive home alone but she was quite enjoying herself in the company of the kid. Amy kept on giving her directions towards her house and Linda was glad she didn’t have to make a huge detour to take her home. After about half an hour of driving around, Amy told Linda to take the next left. “I live just around the end of this lane”, she said. Linda turned on the dirt road towards the left and was keeping an eye out for the farm and the house Amy had described. “Stop here, that’s my house”, Amy said. Linda slowed the car down and was looking out the window for Amy’s house.


As she turned towards the passenger seat, her mouth went dry.The seat was vacant. She started trembling as she turned again towards the “home” Amy had brought her to. “Holy Name Cemetery”, the plaque read.

Linda wasted no time in reversing the car at full speed on the dirt road and pushing on the gas pedal till her car protested. She didn’t stop  for anything till she reached the safety of her own home. She quit the job the next day and started working with her ex-employer at the same amount of salary as before. Never did she take the road to her new workplace again. And was creeped out by the name Amy till the day she died.


This post has been written for picture it & write by ermilia

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