Waiting for you was the toughest thing to do,
But not knowing whether you'd come back
was even harder.

All that we do,
Why is it only about love?
All that we write,
Why is it only about love?
All that we dream,
why is it only about love?
All that we hope,
Why is it only about love?

It’s in crowds that I miss you more,
in crowds, your absence ****** my heart the most,
In solitude, not so much.
‘cause in solitude, I’ve learnt to live without you.

And monsoons,
will always be about our kisses,
wet and passionate,
your breath tickling my neck,
your fingers warm at my waist,
as rain drops soaked your hair,
and wet the front of my shirt,
the look in your eyes I will always remember,
of total surrender,
how you gave away everything you had
and how I held onto what little was left of me...

For a moment, let’s just…
Stand still
And look around
Watch the birds fly
Or hear the rustle of autumn leaves
Or let the deafening silence reign

For a moment, let’s just…
Stand by the sea
And enjoy the waves
Crash against the rocks
And let us do nothing
But watch the bubbles disperse
Never to be found again.

For a moment, let’s just…
Blink our eyes
Ever so quick
Repetitively
And what forms?
In front of our eyes
The image we see
Is a broken one
Or perhaps just dark is all we see
What can we make of it?

For a moment, let’s just…
Let  a moment pass
In solitude
Where you get
To know nothing, no one,
And yet you know
You are everything there is,
And will be.

on the loneliest days,
when even breathing seems a task,
your letters carry your smell
and also a reason for wanting to breathe again.

Ever wondered why
some people are happier than others?
Are they doing things differently
or are things different for them?

Is it hard-work or sheer luck,
what makes the difference,
have you ever thought?

Some die struggling,
for all that's fair and theirs.
And yet luck favors
them who hardly care.

That's the difference,
despite all that's said and done,
as one dies in the warmth of love,
other dies stone cold.

She barely existed in the world of people;
those faces, masks of lies and deceit,
she concealed her joys and tears,
for her companions - the pen and the paper