Baby, I’m Sorry.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Wahooo! It has been too long! Well, I’m back with a poem that I wrote in a particularly boring class at school. And oh, seriously, it’s not as good as the other ones I’ve written, but yeah, it’s cute and nasty. 😛 Thanks for reading, loves! 


Baby, I’m Sorry.

So, you left me
Feeling mighty
Satisfied and smug,
But, baby you need not
Worry about me being hurt.

BECAUSE-

The hot, piping
Nice and yummy
(Which is not
Really good for
Your tummy)
Bowl of ramen noodles,
With tasty soup
Dropped in oodles,
Makes me happier
Than the memories
Of our romantic
Getaway at
Budapest, Hungary.

So, baby, I’m sorry,
I was never in love,
I was just hungry.

-Kimaya Ingale.

Every Other Girl In The World.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Hi, y’all! Okay, I apologise if the posts are becoming way too soppy and similar for you! There’s a kind of (please take note of it when I say ‘kind of’) funny post coming up next! Love y’all for reading and comments are always appreciated (indirectly begging you for your feed back) 😀 x


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“Whilst you said 

 You were off

Chasing my demons,

Little did I know,

You were chasing

Them onto me.”

Life before you was simple. I was happy dreaming of dreamy utopias with me as their reigning queen. I had the stars within my grasp and I could paint with colours non-existent. I used to marvel at them. They spoke words to me and I spoke back to them through my loving strokes. The world was my canvas interminatis.

But you rudely barged in. You were a gatecrasher in my party at first. Oh, and how quickly I learnt that you were the life of it.

Darling, you shattered the precarious foundation of my pretentious but joyful world. Never had I felt so naked, cold and vulnerable, but you were the fire toasting me.

However, what they say is true. Old habits die hard. I was still an inkling of my older self. Still off chasing after fairies and imps. I wanted my fairy tale.

Knowing me as you did, you built me up on my fantasies. I believed you. Your kisses told me I was privileged. Your loving gestures were those befitting royalty. Your pretty lies rendered masterpieces in my mind worth residing at the Louvre.

Yes, I admit I was stupid. That hurt, you know, knowing that you were the one making me feel that way. The man who once made me feel like the Queen of the world, his world, now looks down at me from his throne. A satisfied smirk on his face.

Story of every other girl, eh?

But that’s what hurt the most, sweetheart.

You made me feel like every other girl in the world. 

Dead-Girl Walking.

You finally did it, didn’t you?

Maybe I had foreseen its coming. But your ‘I love you s’ mollified my fears. Coming in at the right time and hitting the right chord.

I confused them as a result of the love and affection you held for me. Love, huh? What was I thinking, gosh. You probably said them to save me for the pain that would be coming later. Built me up, raised me like a lamb for slaughter.

I tell you, my darling, it is far worse than what I envisaged. Sure, there were those customary sleepless nights. A bit of crying here and there, too.

But you shook me to my very foundations the day you left. The girl who was once confident about everything in her stride now doubts her every thought.

I look at myself in the looking-glass and all I want to do is claw off my skin. Free myself from the traces of your soft whispers against my goose-fleshed skin, your mouth against mine, the unparalleled pleasure your every touch warranted.

Darling, I was living antitheses with you.

 Shaky yet unwavering. Scared yet fearless. Calm yet a thunder-storm brewing in my chest.

 Yeah, that’s how you made me feel. Yes, I had given you an inkling about my feelings, but they never did any justice to the real deal.

However, I thought you’d leave me only when there was no other choice. That otherwise, you’d leave me on my cloud nine feeling full of love.

But you were the one who pushed me off it. Love, you left me an empty shell, with eyes dead to the world and all, not even a ghost of the girl I used to be.

You’ve made me like the dead-girl walking you’ve always feared.

-Kimaya Ingale.

Puppy Love.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: I was totally in the mood for some cliched, light and refreshing write up. And oh, this is quite personal to me as I’ve written this for a friend. Hope you like it! 🙂 


She was a goner.

The warnings reached her too late; he was already her waking thought. His attention was as important to her as sunshine to a sunflower.

But she was a sunflower growing on the edge of a town often battered by storms. With the sunshine more often present than absent, the nightmares of life without him plagued her.

She talked to her friends about it. However, their advice was superficial. They asked her to ‘maintain a distance’ but how could she maintain a distance from her own heart? 

Now, the love songs she so endlessly hummed had finally a subject to refer to. Her 11:11 wishes were not wasted on him, though. She spent them on herself, to pray that she would not have to go through the horrors of a heart break. She was sure that she wouldn’t make it.

However, like all love stories go, the twist was ever present in this one, too. Whilst she raged and stormed about how he didn’t care, little did she know that behind his aloof behaviour, behind that agonizingly “masculine” armor was a young boy who’d finally found someone who helped him experience the “thousand butterflies in my stomach” he had often heard of.

-Kimaya Ingale.

Life Lessons From A 15 Year Old.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Please don’t judge this post by its shitty title. I couldn’t think of anything. And please let me know in the comments if you think of something better! x.


In a world where hypocrisy is the norm, learn to prioritize. Don’t give your love freely. It’ll only earn you a knife in the back. Dive into the unknown, sure, but not without a life jacket.

The realms of horror run pretty deep here, dear one. Be unpredictable, but stay true to your beliefs. Be a rising, colourful crescendo in this world which seems to be determined to sort out its affairs in black and white.

Choose a few people. Guard them ferociously. Love them and never let go. Test the waters before you leap. It doesn’t make sense to use the abbreviation ‘YOLO’ to do something which could potentially result in your destruction. Let the heartbreaks be living lesson and not bad memories of yesteryear, stuffed into a seldom opened suitcase.

Know the dictionary definitions of words and phrases, but only for practical purposes. Make your own on a personal level. Then, use them in your sentences and weave your life story out of them and-and-and OH! Let their liveliness take others’ breaths away. Let them soak in your brilliance and let them be inspired to do the same.

Learn to take responsibility. Stop being a bitch. Karma will follow your lead.

Darling, don’t limit yourself to mortality. Be a rain cloud. Learn to make people aware of your vitality by arriving only at certain times. Touch their lives. Cleanse them and give them the power to start anew.

But just don’t limit yourself to mortality. Aspire to be something more. That’s your ticket to be remembered.

-Kimaya Ingale.

Aesthetic: The Unsettled.

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Some days, he’ll adopt that irresistible boy-next-door charm.

Others, he’ll be a brooding puzzle.

And the next day, he will be the school clown, laughing, making others laugh.

Just when you are about to label him as one of the stereotypes, his metamorphosis into its opposite will startle you. Don’t worry, he’s not schizophrenic. He’s not bi-polar either. He just won’t live under a label. Just as you thought he was settling for being a jock, his extraordinarily nerdy attitude will surprise you.

“Why?! Why not be one of the Populars?” -you might cry.

“Because being like the plot of an Agatha Christie book is better than taking up roots in a sobriquet and living the remainder of your life, TRYING to live up to it.” -would be his reply.

And that’s how you know folks, he’s like one of those fire rainbows. Very recherché. Striking. Bold. Worth remembering.

Don’t let the society place its label on you. Embrace your unpredictability and quirks. Be ensconced in them. Make them your protective shell against society. And remember, never settle.”

-Kimaya Ingale.

Diary Of A Lame Girl.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Hey guys! So yesterday was a bad day for me and I was stormy. So the following incident is a true and exact narration of  how things turned out for me when I tried to tackle my turmoil. Hope you don’t mind me writing such episodes of my life and boring you all. Because damn, does it feel good to get your feelings out in the open. Do tell me what you thought of it. Love you 🙂


So I had a really rough evening yesterday, and I didn’t know how to combat with the pain and anger I felt over the person responsible for it. I eventually slept over it, listening to some One Direction (I don’t care if you don’t like them, they are my life) and nursing my seething and broken heart.
The morning brought rain with it and having read some Tumblr quotes like ‘Let The Rain Wash Away The Pain Of Yesterday’, I couldn’t wait to get drenched in it. But my actions are ruled by my mother’s permission and we just had had a fallout recently and whilst I made up my mind whether to ask for her permission or not, the intensity of the rain lessened and also did the Tumblr-y scenarios in my head.
When I finally got to the terrace, the rain became more or less a drizzle. Stepping carefully on the wet floor, trying not to bash my head in, I got another wonderful idea. The rain combined with my inner turmoil due to yesterday’s happenings would make a good blog post. I only had to figure out how some of my fellow writers got their thinking machine to form wonderful metaphors to disguise their pain and got inspiration from something like lightening and thunder; because all lightening and thundering did to me was scare me out of my wits’ end and shake my fist at the guy Up There for scaring me.
I looked all around me from the terrace and tried to gain some inspiration and form the words and phrases which would constitute of my next, BIG, blog post. But all I could manage to do was stare into the distance and mentally shoot the person who was the reason behind all of this. ‘Pow pow pow’ went my little gun and suddenly, I found myself in the company of a crow. 15 minutes gone and I was only partly drenched and the crow was shooting me looks. After a 5 minute stare fight, he flew away knowing that he had better things to do than stare at a 15 year old, who did not have anything better to do than stare a crow. I tried to gain some ‘inspiration’ from the now flying crow before I realized how stupid I was being. Surely, ‘And as she suffered from the pain, the crow with it’s magnificent cawing and exquisite, deep black feathers, was the beacon of hope that signalled with every passing moment, everything would be okay tomorrow’ wouldn’t work. I tried to work up a jingle, and I got out a good tune but only when did I sing out the words, I cancelled the plan of singing my own song, a cliched mess, and becoming the next YouTube sensation. I sounded like a dying walrus with a sinus infection.
Sigh. This was turning out to be really unsuccessful and things got even worse when my dog entered the scene. He was positively taunting me with his lolling pink tongue and that little, sneaky rascal purposely got wet in the rain and shook off all of his water over me.
So, now fuming and in an even worse condition than before, I set off for home, having accomplished nothing.
Now as I recount my true story to you people, nursing a slight cold, I realise that forging fancy words into metaphors and drawing inspiration from nature’s happenings isn’t my forte. Mentally shooting people is.

-Kimaya Ingale.