A Love Story that Dies Midway, but not the Love.
Sundays are for the things you love. For a dip within yourself. For the memories that made you And specially the ones that moulded you. *** Sundays are for you To love yourself, unwind yourself To scatter the pieces of you Carelessly, mindlessly. *** Sundays are for the pajamas, Messy hair, bad breath, For strewing … Continue reading For Sundays
Note - This poem is structured in such a manner that, the number of lines increases in each stanza I once played with fire. I played with fire, Thinking, not all fires could burn me. I played with fire again! And felt its power. To char, to destroy. I played with fire. … Continue reading I Played With Fire
The skies cried. The emerald tears Froze on Earth. Note - This is a view from my window this monsoon. The water weeds & the weeds from the woods have merged to give this wondrous spectacle.
To the world, I am invisible. But in my eyes, I have a world of my own. Where right & wrong aren't the only options. In my world, there are in betweens & beyonds. There is a right for everyone. And the rights are all respected, even if they're disagreed upon. In my world, Infinity … Continue reading My Black Velvet Unicorn
I am addicted to you. Addicted to the searing pain Coursing through my existence When you caress My gaping wounds. In your absence I notice, My addictions are Tearing me apart. When you are Beside me, I realize, I enjoy being torn by you. Image courtesy - abstract.desktopnexus.com
It's time To take my leave. Starting tonight, Watch out for me When the dusk approaches. Look towards the skies As they light up gradually. I'll be up there. Hanging the stars One at a time. Pic courtesy: 3leapfrogs.tumblr.com