Enchanted

Mesmerizing me
is simple;
the only thing
you have to do
is talk

with that mouth
as it moves slowly,
in my head;
those eyes
that look into mine
and mine only;
those hands
that peck my arm
every few seconds
ever so naturally

I freeze
'cause I forget to breathe
every now and then
but I swear
I listen.

This post is even cuter!

Continued from This post is so cute

When you pull my cheeks and tell me how cute I am, don’t give me that look! I am not 2 for God-sake! Coochie-poochie. Calling me Golgappa and aloo!

I will continue to call some certain girl’s crush (?) gay ‘cause he has pretty lashes and there’s nothing she can do about it! If she plans to beat me up, she will soon be retracting her decision ‘cause she just might end up buying me ice-cream. I look THAT cute.

But listen, I am bad. Superbad. I will soon be brand-strategizing for bikes for a living. They don’t employ cute people. We are rough, dark and damaged. So basically you don’t wanna mess with me (applicable only if you’re expecting employee discount)

I can growl a few Bullet for My Valentine songs and I was once asked by a professor if I thought I might be mildly schizophrenic. Scared much?

I can take you out and kick your ass at an occasional game of Dog and the Bone. I will dodge you, take the hanky from right under your nose and scurry away like a rat (or a dog whatever, why is this game so confusing? There’s no bone to pick, literally. Neither does it involve barking) I am out to change perceptions about ‘small packages’ like us. Shorties of the world I call upon you to help me in my mission!

Oh btw Happy Birthday Shamanth!

This post is so cute

One never wishes to be called cute, atleast not when you’re 25. Actually not even when you’re 10. But hey, that time you have the hope of growing taller and prettier and you expect that at 18 you will be reach the ‘smoking hot’ phase of your life.

Except, more troubles happen. Like Acne, and well, good food, lip smacking Double Chocolate Cheesecake. Sigh. (I blame the country’s economy and the rising disposable income of upper middle class) And as it turns out, you stay the same height as you were about 10 years back.

Party. You put on your best dress. You utilize your newly acquired skills for make-up. Eyes could do some major damage on the dance floor. Dude, the cheekbones look killer; hell you never noticed you had cheekbones!

But you don’t cut it. You just don’t. ‘Hot’ doesn’t happen. Hell you won’t even go to the gym. You were cute at 10 and you will be cute at 40. This is not funny.

Any ideas?