Solitude, it was meant to be.
I knew that from the start,
Then why did I believe my heart?
Whims and fancies—he whispered some fabulous tales,
So good to be true,
Do they really prevail?
I wish that I had that cup of gall.
To stop it going beyond the scale.

Leaving—a never-healing scar.
Is there a chance to connect again,
Same as before? Oh, I miss that glow.
Uff! This poetry isn't helping me anymore.

I wrote on hollowness and emptiness.
I wrote on everything—sometimes less and sometimes more,
Still, like waves of the sea, they keep coming back and forth.
This pain changes my sleepy night into an unwanted day,
And it never goes away.
Without you, I have lost a part of me.
It always feels that something is incomplete—shattered I am, without a gist.
Dreams of you—having a hug feels like bliss.
Then I wake after—senses drenched in sweat all over.
I can't write furthermore; it's so much to take.!

Little fish swimming in a housed pond,
See her swirl joyously all day long.
Got me wondering what her childhood would be like—
Did her grandmother tell her stories about kings and their knights,
Or horrors of birds preying on them from the sky?

Maybe about mermaids or the treasures from wrecked ships?
I watch her still—she is flapping her fins,
Maybe expressing her experiences of the deep, darker sea.

I still wonder—what a life it would be,
Fascinating or dreadful, what would it be?

Blurry eyes can't see the path between my heart and mind.
Struggling to find a horizon
To debate the matters it confines.

To register a complaint about idiotic comrades.
Ear hears the heart,
Directs mouth to say the disgusted mental shout.

They believe thoughts that my heart has,
Though having my soul's approval.
They say, "The world is not ready for its outwardly disposal."

Difficult to find a jury to set up a court,
To settle the matters,
Grave like this.

May these things find the right course.

How foolish can one be
Like I was
To believe for what I got  through was unique.
How did I forget that we all consume and feel the waves of the same sea.

Same pirates, likewise hurricanes.
Just the tide timed different

Lighthouse seeks adventures
Sailor seeks safety.
Both are fruits of brevity

Deeper you dive
The less you know.
Icy it feels when it taunts.
Every night it would haunt
Every sail seems unique but is monotonous
It was you against you.
I falsely believed it was you against us.

Passing through a narrow street,
All over known for its treat.
There, I saw an old lady sitting on a tiny seat,
Selling flowers to my lady, the lady of my dreams.

Oh, sweet! Hesitant I was to go closer to her at that very hour.
"How should I start the conversation?" She was already holding the flower.
Murmured and hummed, I opened my mouth,
Summoning with just a formal "hi."

She smiled and replied to my summon gracefully.
Stumbled I was—my brain lost its dictionary,
And started playing a stupid pictionary.
She laughed, called me "cute," and walked away.

I missed my chance—just by sly away.
Since then, I pass by day to day,
Though it distances my daily commune.
Forgetting this Cupid-spread disease is immune.

Infatuation, infectious infatuation.
Can anyone tell the difference between love and tormentous sensation.
both feels the same.
Why do I even play this game.
My heart cries for the one.
Should I even try?.
Big question mark on the existence of both the feelings.
They are good for nothing in terms of healings
They both don't care about the real feelings.

Why does my soul feel dead,
Still away from God?
The passion I had is gone and lost.
Amid all happy signs, why do I still feel this emptiness?

Without a picture of you, my songs have lost their melody.
Without you, even success feels like tragedy.
The brimming sunrays don't relay warmth.
Subtle heat is burning—not the skin, but something within.

Hollowness is the farewell gift you left.