The glass broke
Into shards of a zillion pieces
Like memories spread in front of me
Sunlight glistened
I watched them sparkling
Dancing colourful lights
I was memorised
Like watching stars in daylight
My own private moment
There I stood
And the room became still
As the sun disappeared
I got the broom
And swept the memories away

I remember when we first met,
You were dancing in the rains,
I took a glimpse of you,
And I was swept away,
I saw a spectacular cupcake in a world of muffins,
I saw a beauty face, a figure of endless affection.

You twirled and moved,
You were moved by the rains,
Little did I know that we were supposed to be connected,
Yes, connected by strings of destiny,
A soul-mate indeed,
Discovered at the most amazing of sights.


My soul was depleted before,
Torn apart, withering and dying from lack of passion,
Do ladies use innocent guys?
Enough of being a door mat,
My concentration was on you, the rain-lover,

As you swayed your body,
As you let the rain embrace your whole existence,
Who does that in this time and age?
You were really the one,
The number one, oh my,
The only one.

And right now as I remember all that,
I conclude,
I don’t want to be a punchline anymore,
For this joke we refer to as love.

it was a love like a summer morning,
the breeze coming through the windows,
the sunlight drowning out the darkness,
and laughter
coming from the most beautiful woman
he had ever known.
it was things like these
that he yearned to write about.
each page was dated july 2011
and her name was written
by feeble hands,
blue smudges every third letter.
she wanted to feel alive,
and he wanted to plant flowers
in places she thought had died.
he wanted to forget her and remember her
and he didn't know which was more painful.
the shade of her hair no longer existed
in his scattered mind.
her voice sometimes traveled highways
and met him at intersections
and bid him a safe drive,
but he couldn't recognize it.
he was disconnected from her
and he couldn't change that.
he sat under a blanket of stars,
while she lay under a bed of soil.
and everything he wanted to write about
was lying six foot under,
trapped in a mahogany box.
it was this love like a summer morning
that flowed from pen to paper,
and let flowers grow around her body.
because after all, she wanted to feel alive,
and the least he could do
was let her live through the fibers
of his tattered notebook
titled, ‘things to forget’.

Sea;
The water
Angry
Blowing and springing up rocks, and sand

The fish
Pondering if they shall live
Wondering when the waves will calm
Wondering if the day shall end

The mermaids
Sitting on the rocks
Flowing their beautiful, vivid color tails
And twirling their long, beach curled hair.
Playing in the crazy waves
Enjoying their made up days

Being a mystery is the life to live
Because what could be the problem
If you can’t have a care to give?
Now school and social lives create stress
But when you are a made up character
Your life can not be a mess

So the water tames
And some of the fish have passed
The exotic animals that swim the seas
Don’t seem to be the same

But if you are a fictional character
There’s not a worry in sight
Not worth it
To put up a fight
Children think of you
As the beauty of the sea
But now that i’m grown
You aren’t real to me
I dreamt of becoming you
In my younger days
I broke the wishbone to be you, on holidays
But maybe my worries aren't big enough
Because i'm just a the fish to you, and have my own ways.