She is bougainvillea.
Lush.Wild.
So full of colours.
Unassuming
and rarely appreciated.
Oh,she couldn't care less!

-

Between sun and moon lights
Beneath stars that shine bright
Blooms a bunch of bliss-bulbs
Bedecked with wax-hued dews
Bewitching bracts sheet thin
Beckoning wander-souls
Bewildering passion

-

"The Light that Lingers"

Bougainvillea enwrapped its carmine
vines around my limbiclamp—
as streetlamp's alabaster glow—
penetrated my cadaverous cuticle

Embalmed its aurum alchemy
upto my innermost sepulchral strata

Sank its charm coralled—
a symbiotic synergy of solace and saudade
banshees of discomposure dispelled—
periphery of queenly quietery quoined

-

It was a rusty wind,
And it smelled of corroded love,
It pasted in my mind,
A picture of the bougainvillea bush.
A vintage one with
Ivory blotches in it.
It still speaks of how our
Bold dreams bursted like
The swollen balsam seeds;
And how we buried it,
In a bed of bring tears.
The bush was brushed with
A thousand nuance of reds,
And it looked like the
Splintered shards of our
Beautifully broken hearts.
The bizarre breeze
the briny scent Bought
And I still call it
The 'Bougainvillea breath'.

-

-

One evening it was there,
listening to my woes and
being the secret epicenter
of my wild treehouse fantasies,
and the next morning it wasn't there
anymore.
I'd lost my poetic inspiration
along with my memories of a
not-so-real fantasy of building
lego houses.

//caption//

-

I'm tired.
All my roses
have turned into
bougainvilleas.
Both beautiful,
yet one stays
in the vase,
the other
lies on the ground.
Alone.
Lifeless.
Unnoticed.
All my roses
have turned into
bougainvilleas.
And I'm tired
of pretending
the bougainvilleas
are just roses
with stolen fragrance.

-

-

•Muted bougainville•

/Caption/

-

I don't need a fancy dinner date
or a party night out.
My favourite book and a swing in a balcony overgrown with bougainvillea would suffice.
Music in the background would be
a cherry on the top!

-