My heart doesn't want to be a Gordian knot in a
scamper to solve any problem,  
so it has started acting up fashionably.

Fashionable, the term I thought was your situated
phrase feels more terrestrial here,  
not like tequila imagining a terabyte.  
The enclaving and composing scope of the internal
granite feature  
have begun to learn the preparedness to embrace the feelings of your knowing smile.

This process has made me reflect on the gooiest heart

that keeps remembering your glance.

My inner spectrum feels laughter in the mirth shrub of
elocution,  
so I must admit that it is not about the structure,  
but the snazzier, contemplative, and contemporary
spirit  
it gives me by allowing my heart to feel.

Then I remember the hundredth tension of the
connecting poles  
and the occupied hold of the heart,  
and I want to be your terrapin!

©shivpoetesspriya

I keep my heart racing for you.
But why did you leave me?
At this tender moment,
Why did you leave me?
At this soft juncture,
Why did you leave me?
When I wanted you so much,
Why did you leave me?

It is true,
some gems are forsaken.
But if you see clearly,
It is obvious,
you would see luminosity
in some piece of darkness.
That side of your sight,
Yes, there
you would see the slightest
tint of luminosity.
I call it my hope.

Why did you leave me?
But I see my hope dwelling in peace
and cycling through all the growth.

Why did you leave me?
I want my luminosity back.

I want it.
I always want it.
©shivpoetesspriya

You are too good to be a writer.
I love you.
You flourish in your emotions—I just love it.
You are bright in your thoughts—love it, love it.
Extraordinary love, indeed.

In the season I loved you,
I felt it in my heart,
and all the notable faces of fate turned towards me
to see if I had become strong in my pursuit
and how my wheels stayed so stable
despite the thorns on my path.

The cloaks of fate grew eager
to learn of my uproarious skills.
And they discovered that even the dead
had once engaged in worthwhile activities
during their lives.

Their innate selves began to check their own batteries,
and one old cloak, rich with the wisdom of bygone times,
held the middle pages of my book.
She sensed the bloodied tears soaked into those pages
and turned to the next one.
It was not as weathered as the previous page,
but rather a reflection of a broken heart.
The remaining pages of hopefulness held the fragments of that heart,
which never gave up on mending.

So the old cloak rendered her verdict:
When you love, you open your heart
and learn how to love, even if you don’t quite know how.
That will at least lead you towards peace
in the gentle light surrounding love
and will offer rest to your heart.

So the writer I knew truly loved love
with the core of their heart and overflowing enthusiasm.
My heart says—I am obliged and privileged
to have read all of you until this day,
and I will continue to learn from you.

Please accept my heartfelt gratitude,
warmed by the tears of enthusiasm
to immerse your heart in love.

Yours,
A faithful fellow writer,
Shivpoetesspriya
©shivpoetesspriya

Did you try to learn me?  
Too soon, it became a song of goodbye.  

Did I eavesdrop on your conversation?  

Did you try to learn me then?  
What would I do without these creative colors?  

I feel a yellow at the heart's center.  
I feel a pink from your tune in my heart.  
I feel a green river of your sound within me.  

I feel bluer, bluer when you appear so close to me.  

But please tell,  
Did you try to learn me?  

Yesterday, I felt the brightest light within me.  

I didn't know if I had eavesdropped on your conversation, but you took care of the flying doubts with your alerting whack!  
©shivpoetesspriya

This unfed breath feels the blessedness of reciting  
the poems about your hearty leanness  
that cannot be empty of loyalty.  

Your guardable luminary is  
sentinelled with spangly patience.  

I need you in my days  
of laughing and crying.  
Your enamored grin always  
helps me to move on.  

It provides an indefeasible crest of  
devotion, dealing with all the locus of control.  

An entrée of your elaborated  
gamut keeps my hope alive.  

The flight of yearning and  
longing tears away  
all my grief.  
To make a combination with this,  
can you create a circular path on  
the surface to protect my babylike lamentations?  

Your voice, as usual, shines off  
the revolving solidarity around my heart and its poetic hope.  
©shivpoetesspriya

The bond pulls me so close to you.  
I remember you, as if you were so familiar.  
Since when did I become so close to you?  
Since when did I feel this connection so deeply?  

Looking closely at your face, I find myself crying.  
Since when?  

You appear so near, so vivid in my thoughts.  
Since when did you become my savior?  
Is it all me, or the reflection of you within me?  

I'm afraid of how much I might cry.  
At what closeness to the edge do I want to fall?  
Is it going to break me into pieces?  

Are you going to appear so close to me?  
So close to me, can you tell me that?  

Since when did I start recognizing this unfolding?  
©shivpoetesspriya

A fieldfare is spotted fidgeting across an invented playing field, filled with its feverish emotions.  

The heart, longing to express a long moment of grief, is simply and succinctly content in its sincere living and honest nature.  

It waits for a heartfelt discovery of a new friend. He catches the bird's eye and feels sadness upon looking into its poignant and overwhelming gaze.  

The bird cries out to cherish the essence of joyful feelings, immersing itself in the soft fibers of love.  

A justified cluster of flowers, moving in a straight line across the field, hears the brief cry of the bird. They wish for a steadfast member of their homes to ask them if they are aware of the need to avoid being swept away by overwhelming emotions, to maintain the balance of their spirited nature, and to prevent a feeble performance.  

©shivpoetesspriya