She is her father,
that tiny hexagon of a face,
,him, she is;
She is her father,
She hates the bright sun,
,him, she is;
She is her father,
She clocks around in sleep,
,him, she is;
She is her father,
Her tiny toes do him,
,him,she is;
She is her father,
She looks at me, like I am hers,
,him,she is;
She is her father,
She makes me wonder
how I deserve the living blessing,
,him,she is;
She is her father,
She blooms wide into a sumptuous smile,
,him, she is;
And not just him, she is,
she is all he is,
in a hundred folds,
swamping me out of nowhere..

-

Death is by far

the cruelest,

only to the left behind

living.

-

..those clothes buried, with books,
her books, which have her
fingers, almost fading them,
and the rest and everything,
they all bid farewell, unlike her,
riddance is a must, they say...
..Oh! the earth would have sunk her in,
Not me, the eyes need them,
her knickknacks,
for they have been pouring for days,
that's all I can give them,
that's nought for what she took...

-

..those tiny fingers
reached out
to the face,
that had
a gazillion tears
die for love,
and wiped them
with one warm smile.

-

She melts me like butter
and roasts me in a pan;
She calls me her mother
and my heart flutters out of hand;
She smiles like a blooming flower
and for life, I am done.

-

A beautiful thread,
that swirled its way
into an elegant cloth
sleeping on the shelf,
woke up, as it was spread and dusted
;and nothing flew off it,
except a load of memories
into the beholder's eyes,
she held onto the dress in tears,
while the hurricane
poured down inside her
all over again.

-

She's a mess, they say,
while that wretched heart
longs for, at a graveyard,
beside her buried tiny self...

-

:Why him?

:Have you been to the past places of your life? Places where every breathing and human made stuff, no longer comes to your mind ; the place evaporates into residues of emotions.
Like trembling fear, burying shame, endless tears and that silent grief.
Places on this planet where most of 'you' was killed and sowed deep down, that it penetrates your body every time you step in there again.
........I have had a ton.......
After him..,with him beside, those places of my death, have been kinder and much more breathable.

He is that love; that was teased, tortured and killed in me.

-

The ache of a heart
which seldom feels
belonging anywhere
is worse than it, stopping.

-

I don't crave for your heart,

as much as I crave for your smile.

-