Serendipity arouses pity;
like when one beholds an abandoned kitty.
I ponder how people can wonder
when, they hold their own blunder.

I might well be a mistake of time;
sour as a lime.
A palpable yet not so able,
as a fact, neither exists a perfect navel.

Flames in a rain,
fade faster than the thoughts in my brain.
They **** my beautiful rain,
so that it won't mean anything to me again.

Flames in a rain,
won't burn fast like my brain,
won't be restless like my brain,
won't fight against the rain.

Flames in a rain,
won't whisper like my brain,
won't shout nor scream like my brain,
won't never create a fiery rain.

Dancing with you in the moonlight
is like being in the limelight
of my dreams and fantasies,
those preserved sanities.

You don't know the darkness
of the girl who's closeness
increases rhythmically with each rhythm,
dragging herself into your loveliness.

The apathy for love,
deep inside doesn't protest your love;
dancing with you in this mellow night,
my mind sways itself to love a lost love.

I can't trace the fossils of the rotting
love of my past love,maybe I'm tracing
the pieces of my lost love
with our illuminating warm craving
to see each other smiling,
at the beautiful warm sea of love.

The lovely sea  extends
it self before us as if our instincts
to enlarge ourselves
further extends the extensions.

As you pull my heart deeper
more closer, so as to get a feeler
of what's going on in my depths.
I can guess everything without plunging deeper.

Your fingertips trace marks
in each trailing step that marks
a new step to everything,
steps,which are the remarks
of our remarkable memory marks.

They ask me to write
so that they can relate
to the love and hate
that I always relate.

I write so that I can relate
with non but, myself.
I want your help,
don't ask me to write for you to relate.

Emotions in my head,
can sew a cover for your bed
if, you'd give me time
to sublime.

As I lean on my cozy chair,
I can hear the faint sounds
of, the pursuing music that hounds,
this season, warming my cold ear.

My hair still flying in the cold,
dancing as, they try to hold
on to the beats that, behold
the air with love that, heals the cold.

It helps me pick your pieces
and, juxtapose so that I can repose;
atleast tonight in the moonlight
with you, as we will sew the pieces.

Pieces, they whisper,
as they fall, that they are sharper
than the memories that linger
in both of our minds, they are just lovelier.

Don't try to hesitate, just remember
the tunes and the numbers that number
the beats, as we dance
in our beautiful transparent trance.