It’s not my birthday,
Not the time for a letter folded into four,
And I know it isn’t yours either.

And since we’ve already parted,
Don’t be mad at me—
Say goodbye
Looking me in the eyes.

Don’t tell me—
Or at least don’t try
To show me your light—
And since you’re already done,
The poem written by you
And spoken by me
I’ll tell you tastes of salt.

It isn’t sweet,
The sea is dry,
The heart beats in echoes against the walls.

And if you’re done—
Say goodbye,
One last step—
And if I don’t reply,
Know that maybe,
Or perhaps karma, played us well.

The dice have been thrown,
Don’t whisper what you don’t want me to hear—
Just as I don’t love you anymore,
For autumn has begun.

And if you’re done—
Don’t be mad,
But I’m emptying my mind of you.

I buy myself a bouquet of flowers—
Imperfect, equal,
Clock hands broken.

Who can guess what time it is
If we no longer need
Each other
In this life?

the thing about love that seldom finds its way into conversation is the peril it carries. you surrender fragments of yourself..no, the entirety of yourself into another’s hands, praying they cradle it with reverence. yet what transpires when your devotion becomes suffocating, when the sheer intensity of your affection drowns them until escape feels like survival? they run. and you remain amidst the wreckage, gathering fractured remnants, attempting to reconstruct a semblance of wholeness.

you spiral into relentless rumination.. dissecting every misstep, questioning whether it was you, whether they’ll ever return.
and the cruelty of it all lies in the conviction since i believed with marrow-deep certainty that the two of us got it right this time around.

they said the first fracture cleaves the hardest, and they were not wrong. i wrestle with the storm until my hands are empty; in an instant a cosmos i trusted unspooled into silence. my emotions orbit without chart or tether, a scatter of constellations asking the same questions: do you still trace my name in the dark? do you love me in the quiet spaces between breaths? would you return to salvage what we built? i yearn to know.

my loving was always meant to be a refuge. a delicate harbor where you could unfurl into your truest form, not a rope to bind or a tide to drown you. it was offered to you for shelter from the world’s cruelties as a small, pure architecture of safety but never as something to drive you away. i hope in time you will see it as such. even if you never do, i can’t fault you for that.

just carry this with you like a quiet ember: my love remains and i ache for the day you remember what we once built together.

I travel cities with eager and hope ,
I leave home as if I won't get back ,
It's a beautiful pain ,the one that wakes a man out bed early.

In the mixture of emotions it comes ,
Like another episode.
Curious to explore and expect ,
This is when love is no more admired,
But felt like a curse.

On arrival no hurry to meet ,greet or call.
Above ignorance is disrespect but more of excuses,
It's the day I was aware ,it was no love
But a bluff

Do you speak of future we shall spend time together,and no hurry to spend time together?
What does future relate with now ?
Is one immature or just uninterested?

Three words, three words
She whispers low,
A melody the stars
Shall know.
Three words that bloom
Like rose in spring,
Forever bound
By what they bring.

Three words, three words
She hoped to hear,
Beneath the moon’s
Soft silver sphere.
Three words to strike
A sudden flame.
Three words—
That never came.

Colonial mansion, in an ocean of grass,
windows aglow as I walk past.
Funeral service now used of verandah,
But I hear music, not mournful stanza.
French doors open to a reminisce,
With boyhood heart of vitreous.

Footfalls on parquet floors,
Tux and gown past crown moulded doors.
Captured ambiance of a setting sun,
Shown from chandeliers highly hung,
Day I was born, born the day of prom,
I smiled cordially, and my date fawned.

Girls betrothed by corsage on wrist,
Rare french curls--a lunar eclipse.
Bedraggled boys now dapper and genteel,
Vest and bow-tie, a knightly feel.
Chapperesses smiling at maidenly gait,
Happy drowse in  mansion estate.

Cuff-links, silk gloves, nail polish of gloss,
Beheld tonics and sweets, carefully aloft.
Opening cord, an arrow from cupid's bow,
Striking coquettes to their tippy toes.
They sprang to dance,I stepped back,
Invisible in shadow with tux of black.

Shoulders, lake ripples easing to shore,
Hips, gentle waves, right before they pour.
Boys stiff, as if waists beheld sabers,
Legs, sweeping brooms of on shore waiters.
"Your too handsome to stay here unseen,"
Said rivaling chaperess, past semblance of queen.

"You should dance ,"said glittered lips of pink,
Bent like sparrow wings, during teacup drink.
Privy to why in shadow I hid my blush,
Her class my crush, that crushed me so much.

She strained me, even the shadows she gave,
Black silk, stretching,--convex and concave.
Crude metal and wood classroom seat,
Clasped her waist of slender physique.
She was guarded by a window in curtain mail,
And tended to by servants of light and gale.
Light loved her skin of Mediterranean sand,
And wind enthralled by each and every brown strand.

Light penetrated strands, blondly hot,
Wind would blow, cooling pony tail off.
Her shadow curtsied under my desk,
Long legs danced in irritableness.
Mourning class is abuzz with scent of prom,
Flower not frost, rules the school's dawn.

I gave my consent, to an earlier invite,
Then on, suitor blinded me with light.
And Great Gatsy, and looming prom night,
Subjects of sparrow wings pressed tight.
" Show of hands, who do not have a date?"
Slender wrist arises, from an arm curvate.

Alone, she shown that no one asked her,
This stone of Rome amongst boys of plaster.
Hand fell with boy of teachers match,
Wind shrouded her,from the window sash
Rays gave discomfort,to gaze her way,
But I looked through burning ray--

To see a trace of a tear,in eyes ovate,
A goddess unsought, with sadful face.
I, poor, fatherless, could not possibly go,
To prom with princess of arched portico?
I could not interweave my hands to dance,
Or know where I could place my glance.

Wind blew a scrap from her desk, indiscreet,
It was pierced by light at my feet.
"Will" and "with" were dotted with a heart,
"Prom" and "me" before most painful part.
My name in her beautiful free hand,
The color red from hearts inkstand.

(Class bell rings) I travel over star lit lawn,
The music gets louder as I return to prom,
Eyes turn to cotton, in shadow as I ponder,
As pain was forgotten, I came upon her.
Invisible hands, lifted my chin to a red shape,
Our eyes met, her's smiling, mine agape.

Only a glass-maker could imagine my sight,
Seeing hot curves form in dance floor light.
Only a wax-wing could have rivaled her eyes,
Waves gently broke to gown down her thighs.
"Will you dance with me,"she softly entreated,
" I don't know how,"a coward repeated.

A princess which tournaments were held,
For which every timber of mansion were felled.
Not for Rome the mansion's Corinthian column--
--For her--from quarry prom did befall them.
I could not tarnish this feminine form,
With my lineage in crown she adorned.

I turned from beauty, to dark acres tread,
Under willow, I play the last thing she said--
My name--as I shunned from last chance,
Now back under willow, a cane marks my stance.
I have preserved her forever, shying fate,
Even if it was with my own heart-break.

I still see her--in the most beautiful prom poses--
--Still, as lights flicker out and a coffin closes.

How to Get Over Someone You Love

you don’t
not really

you just never get over someone you love
not till you gave all the love you had to give
maybe more than you ever could
till your heart wasn't yours anymore
just a vessel they once called home

till all the love you had got drained
drop by drop
in texts they never answered
in dreams you didn’t ask for
in silences louder than any goodbye

till living felt heavier than it ever could
till breathing became a task to do every day
like something you had to remind your body to do
like staying alive was a promise you never meant to make

till their name felt like a wound, not a word
till every call ended in silence that stayed
till their voice lived in your headphones
but never in the space beside you

till sleep became the only peace
and even that lied
offering dreams that left you emptier
than waking ever could

till songs you once loved
became unbearable noise
till you couldn’t tell where they ended and you began
till your reflection looked like a stranger grieving someone
no one else could see

till time moved on
but you stayed behind
a version of yourself
still waiting for a door to open
one that already closed

till letting go felt like betrayal
till forgetting felt like a crime
till you forgot who you were before them
and the person you are now doesn’t recognize the light

till you realize
love isn't always enough
and sometimes
not even yours to keep