Your eyes are black, tinged with blushes of hazel when the sun falls on your face. I’ve never seen such dark eyes with so much light in them. Your hair is a mess like you got up on the wrong side of the bed but you still manage to pull off adorable every **** time. Your dimple makes special appearances when you laugh on random things I say. Your jawline I know you’re proud of; something I would trace with kisses and warm fingertips, sharp and smooth, so alluring. You’re the perfect kinda tall; our lips collide effortlessly and anyway I would go any limit for you. Our hands intertwine perfectly, you can see we were made for each other. I confess I don’t remember telling your mom in kindergarten you were so cute but I’m glad I did; truer words have never been said. Falling for you was beautiful; you were the stars at the end of my tunnel. You light up my world with fairy lights and gentle kisses and dreams of a future together.  I never knew I could blush before you. You wink like a ******* Prince Charming if there ever was one. ‘I love you’ has never felt inadequate before.

In physics today,
we learnt about
the Limit of
Proportionality.
Beyond that point
something stretched
remains like that.
Stretched.

I think my
heart
has finally reached
those coordinates.
Its scarred
permanently.
Beyond repair.

Sure
I fix it
with glue and love,
I fix it.
And each time it
falls,
It breaks again.

Its naïve. It's young.
It's broken.
Its more pain than love.
Somedays it just
stops working.
It gives up.

But my heart
has learned to
fight.

It's got a shield
of indifference.
A chainmail of hate.
It's iron and stone.

But its caged
that way
Can't live that way.
So I let it be.
I let it go.

Some days, it doesnt
belong to me.
But it comes back
eventually.
Because my heart love me the most.

Love is Temporary, kid.
Forever doesnt exist.
                                 ______
The skies have opened up tonight.
Its raining.
Finally somebody understands.
my heart cries with the clouds
And Ive finally run out of glue.

his voice, honey-coated ballads

his frame; a haiku
three lines and one more

you say i dont write
anymore. youre right.
so here's a little something
about how i cant think of anything
except the uncontrollable
beating of my highly unstable
heart that races unabashedly
every single time i see
you turn back to look.
read me like an open book.
i cant help but stare.
when you catch me unaware
I'm blushing like you didnt notice
the lovesick and utterly hopeless
romantic you dont know me to be.
its a fairytale I want, this fantasy.
I'm obsessed fairly possessed
wishing youre maybe impressed
and realize I'm the special someone
you've been looking for since day 1
i can only write love poetry these days
i dont fully comprehend this phase
yet ; utter perplexity. do you realize
I'm drowning within your ocean eyes?
do you too feel this way when you find
me aching to know whats on your mind?
whats taking you so long why cant you believe
that my darling we were always meant to be.

And I will remember the way your favourite colour
Isn’t blue
Or even red
But a royal Purple
And how your hands are
On fire when
I'm freezing and numb
How you envelop them warmly
In yours and
How we know thats an excuse
To touch…
I wont forget how I read to you
Children's books
How you could make tragedies
Comical
Laughing for hours
On inside jokes we shared
How black Sundays
Weren’t black anymore…
How libraries are your favourite place
But you don’t even read
Anything much
Except my poetry
How my poetry
Is about you mostly
How you mostly
Never loved me
How love
Is a lie
How lies
Broke us
How you don’t seem broken
At all.

Its just us against the World.

if I could spend the entire day talking to you , I would.
if I could stay back every single day just to watch you smile for 60 more minutes , I would.
if I could go out with you every day ,maybe nothing big, like a walk under the starry sky or to the bookshop, I would
if I could hold your hand for the rest of my life and laugh about nothing in particular
I would eat every single weird vegetable just to see your crack up and stay longer.
I would kick all the sand in all the deserts ever over your brand new shoes just to get your attention.
I would write you more poetry than you could ever read
I would text you all day, every day, you know I would.
I would probably scream your name over hills and listen to it echo around us.
I would tell the world what you really meant to me.
I would mess up your hair all the time to the point it would look like you REALLY didnt comb.
I would hold you and hug you till my arms would ache and then it would be your turn.
I would go back  and relive everything with you, the right way.


I really would if I could.
but you know I cant.
so maybe I'll just sit here
and dream instead.

found a guy who wont buy flowers
but is growing roses for me

your love was like the
new moon (you swore it was there
but i couldn’t  feel it)

I remember him smelling of strawberries and cream, like an unexpected breeze on a winter day.
I remember her pulling him away.

I remember my gaze searing into his eyes, willing him to come back.

I remember him down on his knees, rose clutched in one hand.
It wilted soon, I remember that too.

I remember crying buckets and rivers, begging him to stay.

I built a bridge to get over it. Too weak to stand my pain.
it collapsed.

I remember the laughs and kisses that day.
I saw them looking at each other in a painfully familiar way.
(I caught a glimpse before I ran away)

Once he told me
"loving you is like breathing
how can i stop?"

and now hes holding his breath.

Okay okay okay
I admit it
I’m jealous

Of the sun’s rays
That kiss your face
Before I ever can.

Of the tissues that wipe away
Your tears gently, the way
I never can.

Of the mirror that  glimpses
Shadows of doubt; your eclipses
That I’ll never see.

Of the ones that bring a smile
To your lips, someone I’ll
Never be.

If love were a flower, would she bloom wild from the recesses of my soul?
If love were a jigsaw, would she craft the shards to heal me whole?

If love were a sapling, would she root, in soil and rain to be a mighty tree?
If love were a cloud, would her invigorating elixir breathe new life into me?
                                        
If love were fire, would she char my insides and from the ashes birth a phoenix?
If love were a tsunami, would plunging headfirst be worth the risk?

If love were a Volcano, would it erupt violently, then subside into dormancy?
If love were a Desert, would it’s heat drive away travelers, but staying reward sanctuary?

If love were a River, would it harbor my life towards another direction?
If love were the sun, would it pull me closer just to watch me burn?

rioting butterflies
when i see you  s  m  i  l  e ,
you forgo an inch
and i conquer a mile

He's staring intently
                                                  at the task in hand
incomplete masterpiece
                                                 outlined (a deep black)
bitten lip;
                                                 - out of focus
I adoring His own
                                              magnum opus
hands;
ache to trace
                                             sharp jawline; a
defined collarbone-
                                            ridges and valleys
…..Gravitating back
                                           he holds it up for approval
dimpled smile;
                                               breaking dawn

                            "Perfect"
                     (hear myself whisper)
closer now, frozen tide
                                             a whiff of the ocean
                        tsunamis in my heart ; waves crashing

          (but I wasnt talking about the sketch)

i was going to say i didn't need words to
understand that your heart was singing
that i could see you blush mildly,
your eyes lit up when i smiled.

then i remembered you couldn't hear me.

Love
is a drug.
because
it can
**** you.
You can risk
everything for
Love.
Everything.

It will reduce you
to nothing.
It will make you forget
all your troubles.

No matter how
hard you try,
or how far
you run.
You will come hurtling back.

And you can
never
ever
have enough of it.

But
medicines are
Drugs too.
Love can cure you.
It makes you
whole.
Love will fix you.

Love is what makes
this life
worth living.

Love is a drug.
it can make you
or break you.
Just like everything else.

" you're not mature enough to handle it"
so apparently, I'm old enough to handle a back-breaking amount of schoolwork, the stress of living up to your expectations and that of two dozen relatives, the standards of a dysfunctional society, but NOT one, single BOY.

2. " it distracts you from your studying"
well no, not really.
Do you know what really is distracting, though? having to keep your favourite people a secret. all day every day. The anxiety of being discovered gnaws at your very existence. Deleted chats, deleted phone logs, deleted feelings. suppressing your emotions long enough to brainwash myself into thinking I don't care about him anymore. and YOU think I'm acting differently these days?

3. " it's not part of our culture."
since when did love become a foreign commodity? we are but robots with our hearts switched off till the age of 20. And when a trail of incomplete relationships shadows us everywhere, we're left fending for ourselves. Just cos no one taught us to love others right.

To those men who are always behind us, though sometimes we may not see them.
To those men who are too busy flying fighter jets to teach their daughters to make paper planes.
To those sons who will point at every aeroplane that skims the horizon to proudly claim, “that’s my father!”.
To those women whose hearts will return wrapped in the tricolour and chipped aluminium; Who will place dented helmets beside faded polaroids of days gone by.
To those youth who will break solemn promises- “I’ll come back soon.”
To those families that will stare out of windows, refusing to draw down curtains as they hope against hope.
To those men who can truly say the sky is the limit.
To those men who fly above us yet are so rooted to the cause of their motherland.
Those brave hearts whose faces are lined with sweat and determination as they kiss the ground beneath their feet before they embrace the heavens for the last time.
To the men who take every sortie with a last salute.
To the white saris and navy-blue shirts stashed away and medals hung on rusted nails. To survival and martyrdom and the presence of absences. To commodores and flight lieutenants and wingmen. To parades and memoirs and sacrifices and soldiers in the sky.
The Eighth of October is for them.
To those men who are always behind us, though sometimes we may not see them.
To those men who are too busy flying fighter jets to teach their daughters to make paper planes.
To those sons who will point at every aeroplane that skims the horizon to proudly claim, “that’s my father!”.
To those women whose hearts will return wrapped in the tricolour and chipped aluminium; Who will place dented helmets beside faded polaroids of days gone by.
To those youth who will break solemn promises- “I’ll come back soon.”
To those families that will stare out of windows, refusing to draw down curtains as they hope against hope.
To those men who can truly say the sky is the limit.
To those men who fly above us yet are so rooted to the cause of their motherland.
Those brave hearts whose faces are lined with sweat and determination as they kiss the ground beneath their feet before they embrace the heavens for the last time.
To the men who take every sortie with a last salute.
To the white saris and navy-blue shirts stashed away and medals hung on rusted nails. To survival and martyrdom and the presence of absences. To commodores and flight lieutenants and wingmen. To parades and memoirs and sacrifices and soldiers in the sky.
The Eighth of October is for them.