Where's the line between true love and puppy love?
Is there even really such a word?
What was the coiner thinking?
Loved laced with infidelity, sure.
How about young love, love that was tucked away in the shelves of time? Stored in the farthest reaches of our mind, hibernating,
Yet moves our hearts with its presence.
Singeing our lips with its delight; our skin, burned by its intensity.
Love that haunts us, until we find a diversion to keep it at bay.
So strong, you feel it's knock in a room flooded with blaring noise.
The thought of this person, scares you.
Yet this fear, is accompanied with hope—that there's something cherishable in this world.
But despite all this, I cannot fathom how someone can still call it, puppy love.
I guess puppy love could just be that providence sent to stir our hearts.
The taste, to enable us to see what's worth loving, what makes us click.
A love, that reveals us what kind of love, we should love.

Here it comes again, deadlines and exams.
I thought things will get better,
Reality boots me in the gut;
Expectations weigh me down.
My eccentricity, repels my peers.
How will I blend? How do I hope to belong?
Then you came along.
You lifted my angst, my loneliness.
You went your way to comfort me.
An unlikely friendship blossomed.
A bond crossing cities—piercing screens.
Academic plights tasted like butter.
Indifferent folks, spilt sweetness in their lips.
Stress, became lovely.
May hap, my silly expectations are reasonable after all.
Still, test papers are taken away.
Roads divide, split ways we go.
Now, I'm back in a rut—beatings recur.
If nothing else, at least we have journals of our memories.
Holding on light bulbs for each other,
Navigating the illusions of indoctrination.
Anxiously, waiting for our paths to cross again.

It started as droplets on my forehead,
It swelled until it poured all over my face,
What started as a curiosity became ineludible.
Such a sublime, surreptitious, dilemma.

Music, a double edge sword.
It aggravates gaping wounds;
It mends optimistic spirits.

A magic that can ascend one to
A higher plane of existence,
Or a boulder that can send one hurling
To the bottom of Dante's inferno.

A cupid that gives repose to distressed spirits,
Or a scythe that leaves a furrow in the heart of a cynical soul.

They say time heals, I say music aligns the stars,
Fuels the flare, unclouds the gloom of the skies;
Brings spirits closer to enlightenment.

I chose to embrace her, drop the deadweight,
And unlock the shackles of my heart.

Your voice feeling,
Barriers dissipate.
Frisking into each others thoughts,
It felt like you're beside me.

An aria to my ears.
Clicks flowing through my veins,
Seeping in the fissures of my brain.
Your words resonates within my soul.

They aspire to rise above hardship
Hollow professions, empty words
How can they bathe in such delusion?
That shed of integrity given up, for passing pleasures
To abscond from shady deeds is more appealing
Eyeballs roll over pavement, sinister hands look out
Plunder, a dope to dig them further in their graves
Consume themselves in their own folly, they prefer
Eyelids droop over optimistic affirmations
Pulled down by their very actions—doused in contradiction.

Like an unopened letter decaying over time, sentiments fettered atrophy.
Maybe, it crawls at a snails pace, too slow that it kills ones anxiousness.
The constellations conspired against it. Evanescent, reality forbid it existed.
The wick burned out —the top kept spinning.
It made time apathetic that it unwound itself; the hour glass stopped running.

But it does not halt, steadfast, it marches on; enduring the batter of twilight.
Ardent in its conviction, the gavel cannot be brought down.
Too bright, it pierced the veil of despair.
Too colorful, it slathered the grey area.
Too stubborn, it bloomed the wilt out of her.