Blurry eyes with twisted vision
Heart racing fast
Perhaps, not much time to live
Maybe this moment will be our last.
I still dream your twirled red hair.
I know you believe them more.
For astronomical tycoons say
We are nowhere near an ideal pair.
But to defy what was soothsayed,
I will talk to stars to change their phase
To change their chase.
And they will yield,  for I resolve to
Cause they were the ones to witness my longings-
Only for you and for none
My love has taken a new feverish height
My hands tremble and my eyes falter without seeing your soul.
Maybe just a last try - a dying wish.
I close my eyes, whisper your name
I throw my dime in a wishing dish

The world is full of illusions.
But aren't they part of reality?
God created nature like hues in the sky.
A dreamer dreams the story,
Finding the answer—real in an imaginary disguise.
Illusions are real, like me and you.
For nobody would believe—
A story of me,
A story of you."

A cursor blinking on my screen,
Waiting for me to write my scream.
Thinking about what to write,
I had no insight.

So I wrote
About my dull day.
Jack has done all work and no play.
After a long while, I took my time off.
I took my space,
With a cup of hot tea and a rice cake.

Going back to the flashback of those happy days.
Do you remember when we sat on the beach,
Singing our songs to the voices' peak?
Waves of the ocean touching our boiled feet,
Teasing and trolling—
Can we do a repeat?

At night, when the moon chased us,
We sat on a boat, waiting for the sun to wake up.
Photos and images, I start to scroll,
Revisiting the dream on my camera roll.
Capturing the capturer from a different lens,
Then back to the hostel we went.

Oh! Do you remember the lemon soda can?
The pebbles on the sand,
A twig of dried plant in your hand?
Now these kaleidoscopic dreams fade to dawn,
Back to the screaming screen, blinking on.

What does the darkness say?

I am a horizon where voices meet noises
Chaos meets peace.
I only come to you
Determining your valour and ease.

Pain all over my senses.
Time—irrelevant.
I don't even remember the tenses.
Valour pierces me through their sentences.
Of all the odds, slim are my chances.

I survived the prior stage.
Life levels it up.
Now, it is a denser and darker cage,
Seems like a dead end.
Am I blinded by rage?

I published a vacancy for a brimming torch on paper.
Vacancy for a spirit keeper.
Trust—the only requirement,
Not to be tapered.

Apply if you have a heart.
Light within you is the only skill that will keep you on the job.
Payment would be love.
Sure, it will outlast.

Walking down the lane,
with my friend,
late at night, away from home.
Silently, we walk, gazing at the night sun,
consumed by our own thoughts.

We both sat near a pond,
serene ambience all around,
beaming moonglade over the wavy surface.
I took my pad out,
taking my words away from this worldly chase,
watching this absurd scene.

My friend called out and asked me a question,
stating he was not trying to be mean.
"What are poems? What's the need?"

That moment, I knew—
no answer would suffice,
quenching the thirst of his practical mind.
I kept my cool, I kept quiet,
still thinking about that question of time.

A hilarious thought crossed my mind—
"In straight words, I can understand,
but to understand this fish, I need a twisted tale."

A tale of my heart, not of my mind.
A necklace made of beads—the words—
required to enchant the story.

A message of tears,
a message of smiles,
a fable on rewind,
not being understood by many.
Oh, that’s fine.

For with poems only,
one can pause the timeless time.

I thought today, I won't think about you.
Here I am flooded with thoughts about you.
I thought today I won't sit near that door and wait for  you to pass by
Here I am, facing the same direction
I thought today, not to give you that note.
-The poem I wrote about you, how I feel about you.
Here I am, Holding  that note with me - in the book I read
How can I be both?
Exuberant and tired
I am tired by the longing
And exuberant by the love.
Here I am, this is me.
In madness- What sane people call it.
Will you believe if I say my love is real?
It is not surreal.
Not surreal...but real.
The difference- if you ask.
I can't tell.
Because while I am awake it's you on my mind.
Even in my sleep it's you everytime.
Vexed is nature, bored by my longings.
They now have started to tease me.
I thought today, I will find myself and stay strong.
Here I am- lost somewhere.
Gone for long.