do you ever think about
crystallized heartbeats?
and capricorn fists holding
winter solstices within each crease,
palms like mountains
with riverbends and valleys,
cliffdiving into an ocean
of crimson skin?
the lullaby that plays over
and over
in my head is the sound
of your voice
cracking as you said,
"please don't go."
that three-word phrase
sings me to sleep
every single night.

i didn't ask for this,
you know.

i didn't ask for blown-out candles
smoke twirling into tendrils of grey
and ashy piles.
i never asked for your blank stare
when your memory was erased
by people in white coats with long needles.
i didn't ask for your arms
to become my stronghold
and my shelter against the night.

i didn't want this but now i'm addicted.

*(a.m.c.)

You are the painting feather
and I am the canvas you draw on

With your artistic hand,
you paint on me the final touch

With a stroke, you paint a smile on
sad faces

With a swing, you paint a gentle breeze
Instead of a gusty wind

Please draw on me with ease
N' erase from me what you don't please

I love you even if you
throw the colors in the seas

I will listen to your voice
Thats a moment I will cease

When I was young,
I used to draw.
My lines were a wriggle,
My sketches were a scribble.                          
My colours were a rebel,
Of unmatching lights.
My sky was red.
My trees were blue.
My grass was violet.
Hanging from the dew.

And then I went on,
And learnt to grow.
They taught me, or they say so,
How to draw.

I draw now.
The lines I draw are straighter now.
The pictures I make are neater now.
The colours I fill are existent now.
'What have I learnt?', I ask myself.
You say you've helped me grown. So.
This is what I learnt. I answer,
I drew them a perfect box.
And painted it black.

You're my Greek goddess, all I do is worship you,
With characters like yours are only a few.
Not a moment passes without thinking of you,
To the heart you're a misty morning dew.
You listen to me tirelessly, console like no one does,
You show me the path that I failed to see in me.
Our roots are deep like that of the banyan tree,
We hold strong unsaid, we know we'll be free.

True its a mystery how far we go back in history,
Blending of our mind and soul, now that's a story.
I'm glad we've come so far to cherish,
There is no way, no way I'll let this perish.
I've memorized the mantra to your heart,
No possible storm can make our ways part.
They're jealous of us, glad you know that,
After all who better at this, than us.