Maybe the sunset assured
tears to dry...
what’s been lost—just won’t revive.
Brutal, yet subtle—this smell of coffee.
Yes, that’s the ingredient to survive.
  
Till the last sip—
Thoughts -Vulnerable didn't lose their grip.
After your tears met your smile—
Stronger, yet bland
You took that angelic stance—
This fading sunset longing for the sunrise.
Perhaps! Another cup of coffee is enough—
To be alive.

Mystical stories—
Yet undeniable
Some heartfelt derivations- unshakable
I whispered to these clouds  —my  heart's desirable.
You may feel them soothing...
If you can feel the weather—the language of divinity
My flow of thoughts is forming an unusual fable.

Will you accept or will you drop...
Essence of this honeydew
Dripping down
Drop
By
Drop
A hit song for the feelings flop
Unwailing outcry-
I don't know why it doesn't stop....

Different from the files of my computer's screen
I stored some feelings in my nervous scheme
Boxes of thoughts pinned with notes—
My point of view.

A folder of love—
A folder for an Altruistic nudge.
Some scrapped thoughts; not to be judged.
I have deleted all files related to grudge.
Thoughts—never fully brained.
Still stored; for the season of rain

Some longings, some unknown fleetings.
Completing the circuit yet questioning.
Hey–What you are thinking?

While my face works like a sand clock
Eyes swingings to and forth- tick-tock.
From something dreadful to something nice.
This muscular something store everything
Each and every vibe—

Why am I still in mid-air?
Do you think it is fair?
For my flair of love—
Is intense and red.
Holding my unbearable thoughts
Up in my head...
If you feel the same,
Then knock me out.
I will squeal like a penguin—
Declamation is out.

Jokes, yes, those lame ones—
I will say all over again
Just to make you smile.
I will take that blame.
Rain, O gloomy rain,
Thanks for pouring yourself out.
I will now meet you in my dreams—
Over and out!

I imagine you embracing
That sunlight which was dying to get in
From your room's window—
It became brighter after you removed the curtains.

I envy and I adore—
The bookmark when you hold it in your hands
As you place it back in among the pages of your stories.

I imagine—
That coffee would taste —so blessed.
As it moved very courteously through your throat.

Those petals, those flowers
That you keep twirling between your fingers.
Look more gracious than before—

Are you that lyrical ballad?
Which my fingers long to write.
But my lips tremble to whisper.

What should I write more?—
To tell you
What my heart wants to tell?
Suddenly my heart has made my life like a theatre
And I am an actor, a loner
Dancing to your tunes

Unable to wake up from this dream
Yes, this is my dream —of you
By you; for you.
My dream is you

Frayed dews on trees,
Different hues in the sky.
O Divine,
I kneel before you—
And only you,
Till the end of my breathing rhyme.

With this reflection on the past
To seek the future,
Admiring both—
Dullness and contrast.

From tormenting whirlwinds
To silent rains that shower
Music and fragrances—
I return to my path,
Walking alone, but I am with you.
Sensing the incense of these flowers,
Bloomed by the wise dews.
I stayed in memory for hours.

As guided by the time,
Written on rocks, papers, and stones—
The metaphors, riddles, ballads, and lyrics of you,
Or any other yet efficient rhyme.

Ghazals with rhythm
Or a pictured haiku—
Life is a poem indeed.
Explaining the context,
Lost among mysteries,
I bestow myself
To the greatest writer—
Creator of all.

In your servitude, I am
A knight; a student; a slave.
Whatsoever I am,
In you, with gratitude,
I find my peace

Would this be the end?
Where you leave me astray, with feelings of you—
Engraved on my tombstone.

I have been with you—
Strange it is, but alone.
I’m now in the habit of hearing your songs
With only one plug.
The other hums the tune,
Remembering you on my other side,
Where your hand once held my arm—
Tightly.

I know these rhymes—
These ambivalent notes I write—
They are not new.
Some speak in gestures,
Some speak in verbs.
Sitting on this bench near the lake,
I feel on my toe a different tide—
A different ebb

I see every passerby’s face—
Familiar with you…
Or, to say it better, like a maniac does,
I see only you.
Only you.