Why did you choose to read this , again ? You could've scrolled through your news feed ignoring the inking of a great many sleepless nights.

You know it's just sensuous language and some pretty words strung together. You know its just tales of cheesy clichéd romances. Yet you choose to come back. Why ?

Searching for hope , desire or maybe I don't know , love ? You really think that the writing is a peek into the writer's mind ? Maybe , maybe not.

You want to love or be loved. No matter how much you deny it. You might read this to find solace in the realms of fantasy. Well , who knows. I don't know you. But you know me from my writings , or do you ?

Why not just let it all go ? The search for a soulmate to share your happiness. Solitude is comforting. Don't believe me ? , Ask an introvert.

Or you could fall for someone who completes you , like that final piece of a grand puzzle , the girl of your dreams or your Prince Charming.

Confused ? Well you should be. You came here to share my thoughts but find yourself discovering your own. Choosing between the silence of solitude and the symphony of love can be quite confusing.

So tread carefully , for writers are liars and you all are just stories waiting to be written.

~KK

Dear Ex ,

I know it has been a while since we last saw each other. I have done fairly well since you left actually (If you leave out the phases of depression , stalking and alcoholism). Guess what , I never thought I'd say this but I'm actually over you. I admit there are moments when you drift into my thoughts , like last night.

I took Neha to the restaurant where we had our first date and out of the blue I was thinking about you. Yes , I know that you always hated her and convinced me that she was a "mean bitch" , but after a few glasses of vodka and my heart broken rantings , we ended up in my apartment.

I passed it off as meaningless drunken one night stand but when she came the next day to "see how I was doing" , we somehow ended up in bed , again. And here we are two years down the line , still committed. We actually have a great deal in common. Her love of books and the classics , oh the list goes on.

The girl you branded 'slut' has more to her than that meets the eye. Anyways enough about me , let's talk about you. I know that you've been doing well yourself (credits to my stint as a stalker) and you've got a boyfriend who is also a writer. Curious , I went through some of his writings too and I have to admit , you really do bring out the passion in writers.

But he doesn't write you for who you really are. He hides your flaws behind his pretty words and sensuous language exposing to the world a shadow of your true self , but I know there's more.

He is in love with your smile , your giggle and a thousand other things that drives him crazy but he knows nothing about you like I do because I was the one who fell in love with your imperfections , weaving words of magic to describe the truth , loving you for who you really are and not for a beautiful façade.

So remember this dear , He will never love you like the way I did because he fell in love with your beauty while I fell in love with your scars. Take care.

Love
KK

On some nights you are a wreck , reeking of cigarettes and alcohol , stumbling into the room , giggling for no apparent reason and me holding your hair while you throw up , and trust me that's not a pretty picture but I still find you beautiful and wonder what the hell is wrong with me.

On some nights you are an angel , smiling at me naughtily , as your innocence vanishes just like your satin night dress and we make love , slow at first , then loud , while the moon hides behind the clouds and the rain splatters against the windows drowning out your moans as I look into your eyes and wonder how I got so lucky.

On some nights you're a storm , causing a havoc , regardless of a reason , shouting and screaming about the thousand wrong things I did , some of which I have no memory of , while I fail miserably at calming you down until I silence you with a kiss.

On some nights you are a muse , the ink of my imagination , as I spin sweet lies with the pen of mine , which you then read and we spend yet another sleepless night until we are exhausted and content.

On some nights you just lie there , while I watch you sleep as the mole beneath your lower lip drives me crazy for making me want to kiss you while I snuggle closer and cuddle up wishing that these nights never end.

~KK

And there you lie , tracing circles on my chest with your perfectly shaped nail , with your guard let down. Innocent and vulnerable , devoid of all pretentiousness. Honest.

You tell me your deepest desires and fantasies. Your secrets. Dark and dirty. And then I do things to you that makes you scream my name , but I feel nothing. No pleasure , No satisfaction. Nothing.

I wonder why I couldn't ink my emotions into a paper that was never blank before. Being my muse , you provided me with warmth in the coldest of nights while the paper stood silent witness to our passion as I wove beautiful words. But today the paper was blank.

And there we lie , staring at the ceiling fan as it makes slow circles , lost in our thoughts. And then I say that I don't love you anymore and you keep on asking what went wrong and you finally storm out.

And that was when the pain finally hit. Terrifying and numb at the same time. Pure agony. The fear of being lonely. Alone.

That's when I hurry back to my table and frantically search for my pen. The night was cold but the paper wasn't blank anymore.

~KK