I had a single-sided love account
In a world - famous bank.
where I deposited my loneliness and dreams-

Upgrade! upgrade! Upgrade! to joint account
Depositing love, just one, with someone profound.

The notification messages,  even on call and emails
They used to scream invoking my hope.

One day, just by the fluke, I made an enquiry
Diarizing the requirement in my worn old diary

After watching that long list -
Handed to me by a shrewd representative
My heart shouted, "What's this initative?
,a phony scheme!".

Except for questioning my love and identity

They want proofs of everything I own in brevity.
The culture
The compatible age.
Proofs of income and assets - immaterial
The also asked whether I am on same page
About my plan at the time of retirement age.

List has 70 pages front and back scrambled upon me.
My mind bounced like a ball - up and down.
I abruptly closed my enquiry.
And screamed, "I am ok with my loneliness, What the heck!".
And said "On this downgrade -upgrade, I will circle you back."

After walking down a long lane
I sat on a bench with an umbrella in one hand.
Sitting still,
I don't remember, why my thoughts were numb.
With a straight face, gazing towards that wet grass.
Through my wet  translucent glasses

It was a tired pouring day.
An unusual day - with no reason for a smile to stay.

The winds blew rough-
And froze my hand.
They were hitting my face like a rubber band.

My focus was lost and gone-
All logic and reasoning were worn and torn.

Folklores of the insects felt quieter than silence.
Things that were troubling me
I can't reimagine that violence.

I missed to hear that-
Birds were chirping my song of unfound love.
I just kept rubbing my hands under the glove.

But why still, what was the doubt?
They left me alone so what?
I always walked like that-
The lone one in the crowd.

Maybe this could be the only reason
For what just had happened
I was just a victim of a disease called overthinking
I don't know why I stayed on that bench.
Without blinking.

Tears had flowed over my cheeks, I don't remember
Or they got mixed with the rain drops
I don't remember.
What I remember, it was something about
That I lost someone or I was on a verge to lose someone - who was out and about

I can only remember that I woke up by
A strange talking goose muddling riddles like a muse

What I have expressed
are the words spiralling on this paper
Depicting thoughts of my heart.
I plead guilty for the pain which I caused
While you stayed off-guard.

What I have whispered.
Are rhymes of my clean intentions
A statement that I have respect for you.
Perhaps you perceive me wrong
for the place I belong-
You judge me as a fanatic norm.

Yet to claim otherwise
I proved myself enough-
If you still don't feel that I am a good guy.
And if you feel that I didn't stand true to your high five.

I feel sorry for myself
I shoot an unaimed shot- a futile try.
And yes, it's true.
I longed for your soul.
I have no materialistic goal.

I wrote a few hymns
Maybe a heavenly crime.
Whatever you say
Whatsoever you convey.
I will just say, "it's okay, it's fine."

What is Chaos?

Having a baffling thought
Which leads mind to rot.
An argument with self
To get your best book out of the shelf.

A searing term-
Impatience, indecision, anxiousness are in their  prime.
Even in the situation-sublime
Oh! I feel that pain.
That chemical change in my brain

To come out of this dark den-
You need a strong willed wrench.
To forge nerves for strength.
Strength to endure.
Strength to fight.
Strength to reignite your light.

Is this madness?
If you like the shelf where she once stood.

Is this madness?
If you still adore the tea —
the herbal one you never had.

Is this madness?
If you are tempted to brag
about the qualities that were never yours.

Is this madness?
If you feel a sense of safety
in the mask you never wore.

Is this madness?
When you admire everything of her
but nothing of you.

Is this madness?
That you always dream of her —
whether she yearns for you?
An answer, still unknown.

Going through my old notebook.
Page by page,
Line by line,
I found phrases I wrote for you —
Raw but true.
Some lines, which even today,
Brought me back to my rue.

My book was pointing towards
An unsung outcry,
Asking me questions — unsolved,
Poking me to answer: “The why?
Hey! Give it a try!”

I found some paragraphs — meaningless.
They have just lost their tenderness.
Stories of my loved adversaries,
Poems about my daunting memories.

They say my book is petrifying,
For it has some pages with moments —
Electrifying.
It still has some pages empty,
Yellow and old,
Stating and defining my dreams —
The stories that remained untold.

Everytime you give me a new song.
A tune - unheard
Unwinding my tangled nerves.
Beats conjuring through their magical verse
The music of heavenly earth.
Butterflies singing in chorus.
Styled flowers performing the lead.
Under the canopy of the piano leaves.
Farm animals playing the violin
A Sonata of relief.
Moon is the curator-
And trees are on guitar
Our twinkling star playing mandolin
Birds -singing their tweet from afar.
A moment gloomy or a moment of shine.
You take me back to our best musical time