Being within or Being without.
Pouring in the *** or pouring out.
What is a thought?
This question blows my mind.
It is an over and out.

Do facts speak louder than fiction?
Or is it something that we just require for diction?
Writing it in verse or saying things with a face.
Can you describe your thought to me?
Choose your medium now; just bring it out.

Was an action — was thought, or it was the remedy.
What was it? Romance or comedy?

Ache of my head or an apple of my eye?
Is scientific and mathematical.
Why, what, and how to define.
What is a thought?
Can you explain it to me?
Why is it painful? — a quest or experience.
Why every time it brings a change to me?

Every page of my diary asks for a title.
It asks for a note.
I nervously write your name with mine
Gulping up my throat.
Every time, the nip of this pen bloats ink,
It marks you on a paper.

I know you don't trust me.
You don't like me—
Still I am here— wobbling lyrics like a rapper.
How those classical old songs know what my heart feels today?
This sunshine radiates your love— my hay.

Paragraphing down the third
I hope you won't leave my heart unheard.

Maybe this couch on which I daily crash in
Every dream I dream of you—
It knows you better even than me.
Whenever I cry it holds up my chin.

I told you my heart by sewing my words
Like an amateur trying to stitch his old worn shirt.
My trembling hands are now writing my nerves
What can I say more?
If you still don't like me.
Then tear my heart, a trashed subtitle.
It will no more hit you abashed.
Believe me, it will never hurt...
Nothing to rest.

Sitting alone over an uncomfortable chair.
I really felt that day — is life really unfair?
Lotus — an abode of supreme, a symbol of beauty.
Dream itself to be in an orchid of lily.
Is it about expectations and perspective?
Why do we have such thoughts?
Are we flawed, unwilling to find our perspective?
Without being incomplete, insolent, abstract, or a nuisance,
To be full of pride — do we really need to lose our innocence?
I wondered this thought all this thundering night,
Swayed and pursued on a different side of my might.
Will the sun only shine around darkness?
I questioned my own definition of valour and of a knight.
This unanswered quest still wakes me up every night...

Excruciating thoughts are all over me.
My ache, my earnest love.
You... will you walk with me?

A walk where our quietness converses with the night stars,
And we — we will revel in each other's grace for hours.

A sleep that I dream of —
My head on your lap.
I want to spend my life away from this dismay.

If you allow, I want to hear your stories,
Your fables, your poems — till my last breath.
Till my last day.

My brain is done with its braining.
From all around us, I see leaves whistling.
This barren earth found its love.
Yes! It is raining.

My struggle, my shrugged hurdles —
All have now been washed away.

Should I tell you the truth?
Should I say?
You already know me.
I am standing here with my strangled nerves.

Unwind me, or I will fray.
Or I will fray.

What does the Diary Say?
I am your uncalled thoughts,
Your theory of unspoken why's and what's.
I am your pain; I am your heart,
A story of your mindful seed.
From your mourns to the moments — the ones upbeat,
Your rhythm, your pulse, your time, your verse.
I am a custodian of time.
I record your fiery and the incident-weary.
That's the reason you always say —
"I am your diary."
The "Dear Diary".

Things that I couldn't say...
Things that are still inside of me...
So many things to convey.
I will miss you till the end of May.
My thundering and raining nights
And my beaming summer days—
Misty spectacles—
Over my tear-dried eyes.
Deserted by my deceiving emotions.
Now, I don't remember my intent, my notion,
Displaying my dismay—
I will miss you till the end of May.
What's in May? You might wonder!
You will remember, if you push yourself a little.
If you ponder—
Last year, they were my most memorable days.
I will miss you till the end of May.
Fresh memories, wrapped in my joyful pain.
Yes, I am mad, and I am insane.
With whimsical heart, I was betrayed.
I will miss you till the end of May.

Astrological stars aligned for me and you
Should I write what I feel for you—
A long essay or a three-word phrase?
Believe me, it’s not a fling and it’s not a phase.

Let’s cut down this chase.
I know you’ve been hurt before,
But I won’t let you down for sure.
I want just you...
And only you for sure...

Can you feel the cool breeze amid this scorching summer?
I know what you're thinking—
'Another love poem, what a ******!'
I’m certainly off the imagery,
For my creative senses are bounded by thoughts of you.

Oh! Love this slavery,
Like a knight gets rewarded for his bravery.
I’m unable to end this unending rhyme for sure.
I want you,
And only you for sure...