The postcard dream.

.

 

 

 

I had one.
The postcard dream,
without my envelope,
the one with lucid deeds.
There were moaning sights,
lust and thrust,
more than I could bite.

Beautiful it was,
Beautiful and empowering.
I want to see it again,
With a new character starring.
The new adventure,
derogate from my daily trails.
Makes me come
before I turn stale.

For this dream,
I want him.
Him whose perfume alone
gets my blood running hot.
His hoarse voice,
and my control lost.
With every clothing he is to lose,
and the flavors we have to choose,
before he begins to taste me.
The depths amidst my glee.
Slowly, mouthful, luscious.
And we are on a new spree.
The kind which requests,
Attention to each others
hidden nests.
From yours I swallow and yearn.
Yearn for more,
Until your scream and groan I learn.
Our skin hot, breathes deep.
More coming to feel.
Many more kisses indeed.
Yes, I want to dream tonight.
Feel his girth. Understand my needs more.
I want to relive every moment of it
to its sensual height.

-Sabah Batul

Advertisements

The meaning of his love.

.

I am trying to understand what the meaning of love is.
Love brings equity.
It brings a kiss of hope.
You share yourself,
into each other allured.

True love though is a matter different,
different of its kind. Colossal even.
it’s the music only his ear hears,
while to deafness the other reclines.

True love is his truly.
For her, his every dream changed.
it’s the light his light house gleams,
but only in vain.
As his light was his truly.
She could never want to see it enough.
Blinded by dubious desires.
She brooded for a different love.
The type you can hire maybe.

His soul was wed to hers.
So he waited for her to fall for him.
But see, his love was so true.
So pure. So in-depth of a soulful realm,
that no one could possibly share it with him.

So he took his love to his grave sleep.
He keeps it to himself, unwillingly.

Hence, I try to make his cameo,
but he made himself immortal.
And I am just a sideline watcher.
I watch what true love is.
And still, I don’t understand. No one ever will. No one like him.

-Sabah Batul

She don’t

.

She don’t.

Don’t care about what others think.
Don’t let them break you.
Don’t be labelled.
Don’t do the don’ts.

She don’t.
She doesn’t walk in the shadows.
The shadow is where she was born.
She isn’t broken, she bows down.
She isn’t labeled.
She already hates what the mirror shows.
She doesn’t fear your abyss.
She breathes better in it.
She isn’t a legend.
Or your story to write.
She isn’t rabid about much.
About stuff that you say matters.

She isn’t modest.
She knows there isn’t an inside.
You touch her soul, it’s not black.
It is colorless.
Like water. Taking shape of its mould,
but unable to stay without support.

Her mind is empty,
No matter her stride.
It’s blank, with no note to leave.
She won’t leave a mark behind.
She is foul, vile, loathsome, your lesser than ordinary.
A mere observer who forgets.
Like you will her.

You take a look at her,
She straps on a fake smile.
So fake, she forgets what’s real.
She stifles her self slowly.
Slowly believing in what she doesn’t understand.
And when her wars over,
she isn’t changed or victorious.
Still lacks substance.
Yet what you say doesn’t matter.
She is lost and stray.
Don’t try to find her for your day.
She isn’t yours or anyone else’s.

Now that you think you know her,
You cannot afford her,
Or try to patronize,
Or make her oblige.
Because… She don’t.

-Sabah Batul

 

I had a dream

.

 

So I had a dream last night,
We are all on a hike.
There wasn’t much of a story line.
Except we all slowly die.
I wake up today and realise.
My dream came true.
I got more wise.
Start with adding a story,
To my meaning less day.
Making it worthwhile.
For whoever decides to stay.
Stay and alive, be a part of today.
I am going to be kind to you.
Till dusk turns the sky grey.
And then again.
We all go for a hike.
All the faces in my dream
Are happy faces alive.
I win my struggle for today.
Tomorrow might be different again.
But for now let another dream commence.
-Sabah Batul

Beauty sends regards to Beast.

.

 

 

Only if it was easier to cross my lines and reach my limit.

If it was only easier to fly to where you are.

But I cannot without the fear of obliterate.

I cannot without loosing what I thought I want.

Until I can, parameters matter.

And I stay on ground, because I am not ready yet.

I am losing a chance at our something, beast.

For what it’s worth you were the something I didn’t know existed for me.

You were the chivalry in a plummeting world.

I wish we could quibble more.

But I guess I have to look forward to petulant brutes now.

Until then, here’s to a chance we never got.

Here’s to all the problems in our lives we never shared.

Here’s my tribute to my almost.

I was opening up,but it was your time to close.

So dear beast I hope we cross paths again.

Until then, you will be my almost, Love.

Beauty sends regards to Beast

-Sabah Batul.

I might be

.

I might be a wallflower.
Boring, you don’t want to take a second look.
I might be too plain.
Vanilla, you don’t like my flavour when you cook.
I might be meek.
Timid, I can’t stand for myself against a crook.
I might be ignorant.
Stupid, you assume you can’t share with me your wisdom of books.
I might be apprehensive.
Anxious, with every situation I’m shook.

I might be. Oh, I just might be all that.
And a lot more.
But it is not your place to judge.
Because they might be my flaws,
Not yours to drudge.
I am not to be fixed or changed.
Or your new report to progress.
I am who I am. Myself I proudly address.
Just a name to you, I might be.
But to me I am my world. I am my
always zestful beauty.
A truth I learned.

I am glad I did, because now I can be more.

-Sabah Batul

The asylum.

.

In the walls of the asylum I found intrigue,
Intrigue clearly out of my league.
I found the wait which was worth,
With a new patients birth.
Even though his halo was followed by ominous clouds.
I need to hail his presence.
Yes I am crazy, but so is his essence.
Crazier than any of my inmates.
And that is what I need maybe.
That’s what my heart was longing for.
I’ll only know if he is conscious.
Conscious and precise.
I’ll know then if his thoughts hold morbidity.
Morbidity, insanity, cruelty,murder.
I need to know if he has it all.
I keep staring at him.
I mix up my words, I stutter.
I understand it makes me desperate.
But he draws me in, with
His lost eyes.
That make me shiver,
Loose balance,
Makes audible their whimper and wails,
Followed by his confident hails,
as he called for Satan.
Sold his victims souls.
Holding them by the neck,
Making offerings at evils deck.
I don’t expect you to understand me, but doctor he might make me whole.
We are each other’s ghoul.
So you let him go now.
We don’t want to be your diagnostic dolls anymore.
And I’ll stop with the ECT.
Let him go with me.
And maybe I’ll stop
Ill stop this pain.
Maybe Ull see then.
Finding a guy is tough on a girl.
I have gone through a lot!
I can’t live here being caught.
I have to be free,and in love with him.
And we’ll live happily ever after.
Because im never delusional, you know it.

-Sabah Batul