all those summers
i woke up feeling cold,
was there any place ever
as foreign as home?

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what if we live in a world of
mutual fears?

what if the monsters
under your bed
fear the person
lying above?

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i have seen you smile
when the cities light up;

perhaps,
i have seen cities light up
when you smile.

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dear friend?
i hope this isn't that usual letter where they write about how they met you, neither that one where they write about how they lost you. i'm not sure if i have met the real you yet and i'm not sure if i have lost it already. winter has almost bid its goodbye here but something about you is still keeping me cold while i'm trying to find a fireplace in the memories you left behind. believe me, i've tried to extinguish the fire but somehow the ashes still haunt me.
(caption)— % &

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— % &

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poets are weird.
they backspace the poetry they can't write,
and then write a poetry about those backspaces.

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the sparks in his smile
could inhale the skies
and drown the oceans.

lord, i wonder if he's the poem
i've always been afraid to write.

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I still find love,
maybe in the first rain of monsoon,
maybe in the last dry leaves of autumn.
in the sapphire shades of skies,
while sometimes in the eulogies
I never recited.

I still find love,
you still find love—
maybe not in your heart,
but in those little things
which took away your heart.

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it was more than an eye contact,
it was stargazing.

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happiest birthday didi. ;)

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