Facing the Ocean...

She lay by his side,
On his lap, facing the ocean.
As he drew silhouettes of her,
on the wet sands.

But every time,
A wave would come & wash it away,
As if signaling something.
But he would draw it again,
With maddening love.

As the first time,
If it was up to him,
He'd draw it a million times over.

He could not see her face,
As it faced the ocean.
She had tears in her eyes.

For she could see,
What the waves meant,
As if her eyes were a mirror,
And the waves merely a reflection,
Of the tears within the eyes,
She knew, there was no forever.

And she was right,
For now, he is alone here.
On the same shores,
But the waves have become,
More wild, more violent,
As if screaming of pain.
Not because she left,
But because he never drew anymore.

Tomorrow is Never Promised

Hear me out again,
Not with your ears but with your heart.

Words will never come out,
For it will be doubted.
Sincerity has always been questioned.

Loving is not easy,
As you also need to take care of your heart.

Accepting that we are,
Of the same wave is no joke that could be shrugged off.

I couldn't think of a better way to prove,
That what I have for you is real.

Why not love and care while we can,
While there's a chance.

Love and relationship,
Shouldn't be defined by labels.
Nor by the norms dictated by anyone.

Love again...
For tomorrow is never promised.
So while we can,
Love like there is only today !!!

Best & Worst part of being a Writer !

With every word she carves her way to your heart,
For every letter written she embraces you
with infinite amount of gestures
of absolute pureness of love.
Love a writer,
She'll love you back,
with words and heart.

The worst part of being a writer and a lover is,
When you love someone
who doesn't love you back
And all those words,
Those exhilarating lines of love
Woven in a poetry are a waste of words,
A waste of time and a waste of emotions! But I believe that the best part is that
you can always write a different ending,
a different story to your love story.
Either make it into a fairy tale
or just one horror story.

Self Love...

There are times, terrible times.
Times when you feel so terribly alone,
That you get scared.
Your heart sinks,
Legs tremble, and words come distorted out of your lips,
You bang in people while walking on a street,
You hear nothing but your own despondent heartbeats.

You want to cry but you become angry instead.
The aloofness makes home inside you,
You want to run away,
But you are pulled inside.
It's like an elastic string,
encompassing your heart,
your innate soul,
making it bounce back to the place,
a place where illusions fade.
You want to make your mind work,
but only the stinking smell of your rage retains there.

Everything is foggy, misty and scary,
Because what you can't see subsumes evil sometimes,
That is in you, hidden.
And at those times,
Nothing feels right,
Not even your existence.
Not that the evil is bubbling up in you,
But you're sinking into it,
Losing yourself in disdain.

But you're a puzzle meant to be solved,
Only by you.
You lust people all your life,
To arrange the pieces but they scatter the already arranged.
And by the time you realize your mistake,
You're too tired to pick up the pieces,
And put them in order,
You live scattered always,
Because you cherish being scattered,
Being messy, being weird.

And once you fall in love with the chaos,
Ringing day and night inside you,
The scattered puzzle does no harm,
But the pieces are suffused together with love,
Self love......
Because you're no one but you.....

Glimse of her Soul !

Wear her shoes then tie the laces,
walk her streets with steady paces,
Roam her alleys all their empty spaces.

So when she wanders the world she faces,
You'll retrace your steps,
and know the right places.