Some things are lost,
Unescorted by conclusion,
A passion gone cold,
Stabs me at times,
When I see a hazy little flame,
From far flung memories.

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When writing feels like your touch,
Wind, your whisper,
Your hands wrapped around me like your smell,
The cologne you wore, your taste,
All my senses seem long jammed,
Befuddled, bewildered,
With the exception of love,
Lurid as it can be.

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For the first time in a while,
My feelings were simple,
No futile efforts, at being anything,
Just me and his breathing,
No yearning for the perfect life I've always wanted.
Perhaps he wasn't in my calculations,
Love never is.
What i felt was peace,
Of no longer searching.

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Warm sunshine and residual chill,
seeped into the warm expanse of my chest
The phase between,
A new and a shattered hope,
A much desired numbness,

It turned into,
A breath of forget, and
Effaced the slight regret, after
Finding a corner- of green
In my burnt out chest.

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Lost, My Spring

Gloom reminded me of older days,
When my smile was mine,
I wanted to walk away,
From the unlit cold flame,

Crossed oceans, but never touched you,
Love never changed seasons,
Just December, and a hope,
Except tiny, of the lost spring,

I got exhausted before my love did,
Hurting, but resolute to let you know,
The first thing to be lost,
Is what you take for granted,

The memories mixed,
All love, all like,
All happiness and tears were mine,
So I left it behind, to find the lost spring.

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The Sorcery Of Time

The Sorcery of time is such,
that hard feelings extinguish,
Scars dim, and eventually,
The pain is gone too,

The Sorcery - of time
such that I have forgotten
your laughs, our jokes,
the longing faded away too,

The Sorcery -
Is such that letting go
Is easier
When you don't try at all.

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Attachments simply
Brought hurt along
Like a third wheel.

-

Reminder of how many I've left behind,
And how many I've yet to find.

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All I want is my heart to blossom,
But it's full of resentment,
Tired, unable to function,
Why are we all just toiling away?

Why everyday is a race,
Yet no sense of achievement?
The heart is lonely,
Yet rejects to be accompanied,

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What is right, or wrong,
Righteous, or villainous,
The good's an intersection with bad,
The one's with right teachings as a facade, deep down with hatred,
A malevolent soul,
While the so called demon,
Might be a kind one.

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