how beautiful it is to look
at someone and see the eternity
oozing from their eyes slowly,
engulfing you as if you are a
temple immersed in a prayer,
the prayer that trembles you but still
pacifies each part of you to become
complete. you see nothing, but how
beautifully you are part of every alphabet of
e-t-e-r-n-i-t-y dripping from his eyes
and how he creates a bridge when
you cross an alphabet,
reminding you of love not so easy,
but step-by-step you are closer,
closer to the prayer that seems ancient,
closer to the infinity that is yours
for a while and closer to the
dreams where you are a part
of universe that he creates
in his rhymes.

-

sadness is what I choose
to see today

-

how I once in a while
offer flowers to these
dreams so their essence
would remind me of a
part that was me -
a part that was nothing
but the whole of me

-

Sleepyhead dreaming about how 
it would be if I was fully alive. Perhaps
I would walk in the empty roads 
to find someone who was
never lost and I would scream to 
that person in the hope of listening
to the words which can comfort the 
utter silence within me. I would
dive into the ocean in the
hope of turning into a mermaid
who was living in the cages
of humans just because she
was afraid of being herself.
Perhaps I would be
calm to the chaos, eternity
to the evanescence,
a poem for someone's
pain or I would be darkness
so heavy that can make you
yearn for the light. I would be
a firefly who is not scared of
the bright flames 
burning inside or the sky so
pretty that a kite would fight
the string to stay there for a
while. Sleepyhead dreaming
about the privilege of being
nothing
but just herself for this
one last time.

-

When I hugged you for the first
time, I felt like the stars collapsed
into my arms. The solace
I've been looking for years,
was resting in my
arms. I could hear your breathe
asking me to not let you
go as if you were
waiting to shatter
in someone's arms from long time.
I could hear your heartbeat
singing a serenade for the love
that was once yours. I could feel
your tears on my skin but
I didn't have the courage
to ask you her name.
I let you cry for someone
else in my arms, the same
arms which longed for you in the
season of spring and cried
for you in the warmth of
winter. But I didn't let my
inner turmoil
touch even a tiny fragment
on your skin and I held
you tight for all those
brief pauses where you felt
like love abandoned you, where your
tears touched my skin, where
your heart was this close
to mine and where you
were mine. I held you.I held
you enough to let
you go one more time.— % &

-

the leaves fall on ground
the murmur of the
leaves weave a garland
of rhymes - hush, hush,
hush all we hear and
the trees wait in silence for
spring's serenade.

the snow covers the murmur
of the leaves, deafing
silence brings the cold -
windows freeze and
the brook begin to sneeze
the another tale of a
leaf falling on the
ground.

after the separation of
months snow begin to
melt, the warmth knocks
at the door of cold, leaves
wrap a blanket around the
the arms of trees -
with murmur of spring
begins the
another story of
romance.

-

I think I've forgotten how
to write anymore. I sit
to jot down on paper
and all I can gather
is the petals of rose
asking me to let them
bleed for a while. I count
the seconds for
which I have not held the
pen and all I can hear the
screams asking me to
stop trying. I cry. I plead
and I miserably fail.
I remember when I used to
heal wounds with words,
when fairytales were
living under my fingertips,
when castles were
painted with ink
and the sun used to
set on my brink.
And now I don't know
where the magic left,
all I can see here is a
bag full of unhappy verses,
mouthful of
words hurling curses
and a gloomy paper
narrating a tale
of theft.

-

they say poetry is
a letter lost in the
alleys of love and
I say poetry is the
language of love
that Meera sings to
Shyam, poetry
is the last straw of
hope Siya holds
onto to find her
Ram and poetry is
the last leaf holding
onto the tree in the
hope of spring.

-

I stand there drenched in the
rain holding letters that
you used to write on my
skin, the cities you carved
are turning into ruins, the maps
you drew have forgotten
the way to your moon,
the rivers we had crossed
are nothing but a mirage and
the mountains we moved
are a pile of dust. You swallow
our history written with
stardust and I ink words
to hold you on my skin.
You drain out of my veins
drop by drop and I stand
there writing poems for
you before my existence
get stained.

-

I fathom everyday a new sight
and I dig deeper to find a
new height. The loop goes
as if the waves are stuck in
my mouth. I crumble, I drown
within my illusions of
plight. I yell at the black
blue skies and tremble of
fear spikes. I'm in a deep
mud of cries where
everyone get killed mercilessly
because they ask for their share
of light. A thought escapes
from loop to find a podium
where it will showcase
the reality - unscathed and
unbridled in the midst
of the mess I see someone
familiar - who has been
chained in her own
loops yet she denies.

-