We can't understand each other,
can we?

You'd say one thing, I'd hear another
Both, lost in translation.

Why is it then,
that we always find our way back?
Aren't you as tired as I am?

Perhaps there lies an answer-
somewhere beyond the realm of your eyes

If only I could get past the way you see me
I'd realize.

There's an old poem on love and life without-
A classic really! And a very boring one at that.

You know the kind only the wise would fall for?
Yes, that.

But take me for a fool, the one that I am, for I can't find you in it.
Neither within the metaphors nor the words that I'm so much in love with.

What you are to me is its very last line, where all of it comes to an end-
When I can finally turn the page and hope only for a better indulgence of time.

The world is like that one old poem on love and life without- and you, my dear, are its very last line.

I'll keep you in my prayers,
She said as they parted ways.
He scoffed and he mumbled
On love he rumbled
Light kissed his forehead for years to come
He lived in her prayers, while she was worshipped in his words
As is the gamble of love that's lost- if you've sunk, you've swum.

A shade of yellow, a little too strong
Beneath the blue, they lay for long
"What do you like about me?" He posed
'myself' said she
For the way you see me, I am

I like that very much

Feel it.
Don't barely say those words, hymn to the rhythm of the solemn touch - for you may not have tomorrow but you have today.
Feel the fingers, hold his hand.
Hold and don't let go.
Absorb every little detail that the light touches upon.
Right from that mole on the back of his neck to the way he tilts his head sideways ; to hear you utter the least - to take it all in.
I wouldn't know, I didn't notice.

Why don't you sing to me?
Something for the night,
Or the void after -
A soundtrack to my life
A rhythm to which I'll smile astray
Before midnight, before tomorrow, before we go-
A waltz for the night.

And I'll write for you-
Every page a tear
You're lovely, my dear.
Only a fool, one such like me-
Could hurt even after they recover
For not only have I loved you-
I've died with you.

What's left of me is a kin for the kind
Static yet exemplary
I'd blink as to his wrinkled smile
Like a shutter that captures

The next in my memoir, those that make way
I'll feel, I'll love, I'll laugh
For it takes only one, not all
To hold me when the night befalls


Before midnight, before tomorrow, before we go-
Why don't you sing to me?