A wait. A hope.

Waiting for you.

It's been so long.

That,

All the perception

Is gone and

Torn bits of what

You felt like 

Remains.

I try to recall

Your name but

I can't. And

Each time I fail,

I come up with

New ones. 

Sometimes,

Starts with D

And ends with I.

Or it lingers 

Between S and A.

I don't know. 

Doesn't matter

Matter I guess.

Like,

A lazy evening.

A mellow sunrise.

A fading melody,

A fleeting cloud.

I remember you,

Like I've forgotten

You forever.

I feel you like,

A steady peck

On my neck. 

Slow brush on

My hair.

A comforting

Caress and

Maybe lots of

Hugs.

And sometimes,

It feels like

You aren't really 

Gone.

Lurking secretly,

You're there always.

But I pass that

Thought.

There's a pleasure

In giving you 

Names.

Wrapping you in

Metaphors.

Slice you, bite you,

And totally savour

Every side of you.

It's like the 

Transience has

Faded and you've

Become an 

Immortal idea.

A fantasy.

A memory.

A worthy wait.

Reflective Guilt

Stood in front

Of a mirror.

Didn't like 

What I saw.

Put on a smile.

Screamed, 

And cried.

Wore colours,

And a new hat.

Blood throbbed

The same.

Moments passed

In vain.

Mundane is

My thing.

Pretnse stuck

Like side wings.

To start over.

I used an eraser

To rub off my 

Story written in pen.

Mistakes undone.

Mirrors stare,

For the story

That's gone.

For the papers

I have torn.

Still Moments

The day has faded into the dusk. Bit of drizzle has absolved the sweaty-sticky disgust of the summer. 

The rubble in the backyard is moist and half burnt. The vent off smoke has scented the freshness around. Smells like childhood.

The crickets chirp. Through the haze, birds flutter. A half-read story from the past crosses my mind. I just smile and let it go.

Life's still. Nothing to look out for or to be bothered about. I just sit. Observe. Smell and feel the evening. Life in slow motion.

Something strikes me. An overused couplet of Rumi. I can't help but relate to it. Maybe this is what he meant when he said about that place beyond right and wrong.

Then I hold on. Pass that thought and come back to blankness. To feel. To smell and to just breath away the moments. 

RomCom

Good looking girl,

With a sad face.

Can hook you

To a song.

Her dirty mind,

And sharp eyes.

Can butcher 

Your heart.

Sleep free,

Euphoric nights.

Long lost

Obvious days.

You'll be infected

With that smile.

Life'll seem to be

Defined in her arms.

Muse with 

Dim-lights.

Rom-coms and

Movie nights.

Cuddles, 

Hangovers,

Long drives and

Lazy walks.

Oops. Reality 

Off the track,

Again.

Lemme end this.

Story. Too ideal 

For life.

Emptiness

A word sown 

Has failed to

Grow into a 

Sentence.

A poem,

Full of bloom,

Been grounded

By despair.

Clear skies are

Pain.

Nimbus laden,

A bland hope.

For a craving 

To go athirst-

The water

You served,

Has re-enforced

This emptiness.

Hurt

Poems written

In the night.

Are dead by dawn.

And the ride on

Unicorn is a

Myth again.

For a moment

She was there..

Then gone.

Itching flashbacks.

Her traces 

Everywhere.

Reality and utopia

Intertwined.

Hope and despair-

All hurt the same.