“Why can't we keep good things around for as long as we want?” she asked innocently.
“So, they don't stop being good”, the heavy voice replied.

-

A love unwarranted, coaxed out.
It wouldn't take pieces of us
this time for it to be gone.
Now that I'm getting good
at heartbreaks.

Those eyes though,
your stolen glances.
They come to me in my dreams,
those moments
infinitely stretched, painstakingly
clear.

My breaths come in shallow gasps.
The air cold and unforgiving
like thousand shards of glass.
In memories, I die for the
millionth time before that hurt
in your eyes.

-

I'm a folded letter
in an old diary of emotions,
long buried
underneath
your colossal books
of logics and profits,
barely breathing,
waiting for you
to be exhausted
with logics,
to open me once
and go through
each word,
may you get
what you're stuck for
and I'll find
whom I belong to.

-

It was indifference. That day in your silence.
In the words that caught in my throat
In my tear stained pillow
In your pretention of being unaware.
I try hard and come up with various words strung together, polysyllabic most of them.
Something that runs wild, right before my eyes
I resolutely look away.
Acknowledgement barely gives it much power but takes away most of my polysyllabic words and a love,
dying
like the flame of
a long burning candle.

-

Vacant eyes,
Reminisce days of dreaming.
Tear streaked cheeks,
alienated smiles
weave a tale with future and past.
Staying rooted to present
are tired feet and bleeding toes.
A losing heart holds broken promises,
like shards of glass.
With memories to trip over,
letting go is hard, yet.
Time has still taken more
than given.
Keeping a vicious grip on past,
I'll wait till it doesn't, no longer.

-

These memories are feathers,
fleeting about the surface catching
rays of sun.
Seldom they arrive through
doors to settle under skin.

Diffusing like
rainwater seeping through roofs
to last a moment stirring
fresh pain, anguish, remorse or love.

They linger only a moment to cause
a desperate longing before
turning into smoke,
leaving vacant eyes and
shaky fingers behind.

-

You speak of beauty, of love, of good things.
I love that hope in your eyes, it's
childish and pretty.
But you don't have to make me believe
in good to make me feel alive.
For you're all how ‘lovely’ defines itself
to me with what's left in the world.

-

How often do you love something so passionately
until eventually you ran out of it?

favorite flowers, part of a song and
metaphors from a verse I remember heartily.
The fragrance I got bored with,
The essence wore out,
I sucked the soul out of the poem.

How often you rose to appreciate an
obscure beauty near you?

A book on the shelf neglected,
Flowers that bloom every night fragile
withered by the morning.

That hard earned happiness I chose to
be mine since they held a defined
beauty, elegance to my eyes.
I let go off now,
to search details obscured to my eyes
by a threshold of beauty.

-

Stars won't rewrite themselves for us.
Still not a good enough reason to unlove.

-

I admire how fiercely you fight
each day,
I wonder how tenderly
you'd love.

-