It was last year
the day they embrace
their love,
all of them,
it was then
I declared my own.
Seeds were sown,
In the sun then
her face shone,
it was me alone
who could see,
the seeds growing
into our sweet union's tree.
But as fate would have it,
it's their union's fruits
that the tree bore,
and it was almost as if
an encounter with death
deep inside my core,
there was rebirth then,
a man with the whole earth
to his name as if,
it is indeed land galore,
to sow seeds
until one day a tree grows
just like it's seeds it's pure,
bearing fruits
it should've always bore.

this beautiful heist
of each other's soul,
blind to what she stole,
oblivious to her core.

Yet it was her own being,
that helped me in fleeing
each day,
but we never crossed paths
since the dawn of may.

The blind mademoiselle,
there's no way she could tell,
it was she who gave me eyes,
reason to wander in the world
looking for her
as each waking minute dies.

On a rare starry night
dead silence prevailed,
with them all unsheathing
their very own plight.
The moon turns envious,
as she appears in sight,
for it is but a torn kite
before she in her own right.
She turns her records on,
echoing in the silence,
let the humming commence,
all are safe and all are sound thence.
As they all sink in the tune
She confides in the moon,
in the planned secrecy,
she confesses how she
loathes his absency,
even more than
she loathes to admit this.

There he was,
gazing on from the woods,
blended in the scene
like a ranger,
an afterthought
in the gaping nature.

Fate played
it's own little game
his eyes couldn't see,
the light of the day,
which he coveted
for dear life.

All he saw at noon
was her back turned on him,
which was no sun
but instead,
the dark side of the moon.

Divine in it's own right,
just to have seen her being
right infront of his eyes,
for all these months
she'd been nothing but
a figment in his mind's skies.

Pages be poured out,
be torn out books,
they all append with
you getting her looks,
how alluring she is
and will always be,
reborn each time
with no memory,
the seed once was
or the fruit it could be.
Thieving a mere sight
here and there
is worth every bit of
the herd's pity.

An outlander gone astray,
a mile for each day
is now the distance
we're away,
in her mind,
on the map's line.

No more sinking in your eyes
no whispers in my ears,
perhaps it should've
stayed with me
in all my years,
it's the next best thing,
in this world of lies.
In each waking moment,
in every drop of daylight
fading you are,
stains on a wet cloth,
burning you are,
I embrace, I hold fast
embracing the dying light,
saving it with all my life,
a yearning moth.

Unaware sweet nothings,
her last words before
she parted,
perhaps the last whiff
of her mane
before an ordeal started.

Neither singing nor words,
nor humming with the birds,
neither giggles nor laughs,
nor the breaking of voices,
nor the rapid water quaffs
after heartfelt cries,
none of this is heard now
for we meet behind shut eyes,
I long for it all, but for now,
these mere glimpses suffice.
Hours spent in silences,
now they go in vain,
for even silences
can feel incomplete,
memories of her presence
are all that remain.

When silent is the bird,
mum's the word
everything's blurred,
they meet then,
reality doesn't intervene,
no sense of being.

When the curtains did close,
from the dark she rose,
her eyes, her hair,
her lips, her brows,
revealed by the light breaking in
from the back doors.

this is all of it
his memory thieved,
before being left bereaved,
he had reality all deceived,
until the curtains rose,
she was thin air,
vanished off the face of this world,
atleast the one he knows.

It's a room of gold lights
he is drawing lush nectar
the fear is drawing his blood
the admiration is enslaving
the fingertips are tracing
every inch,
through the cloudy nights.
The ears are savouring
each whisper,
they are savouring anatomies
perhaps the creator's
greatest mights,
Perishment is consuming him
he desires yet he doesn't
for what good is fulfilment
if it didn't birth from yearning.

Wounds renewed
knives were sharp,
****** fingertips
play the harp,
for a joyous union
yet again,
could've been
entwined in
strands of her mane,
bathed in requite at last.
Bled in a chalice
not in vain,
to be sipped a little
each passing day,
to ease the pain,
to yearn away,
yet again.

She could be air, she could be breeze
as we speak,
yet placed in his mind with such ease,
as if a blind man's
last notion of the world
before his eyes decease.

Where oh where is it in me
you still reside,
where is it you still hide,
irony in it's full stride
sees an outsider
on the mirror's inside.
I am but a corpse of our dead kin,
this is how it has always been
and always will be.

Moonlight on our skin,
our manes are akin,
where will this "fin",
my blood runs cold,
my sanity runs thin,
for it's the same stars
and the same moon
culprits of a déjà vu,
just hoping the dawn isn't soon,
hoping this one never ends,
we'll worry about the "fin",
when the moon descends.

Sunlight from
the window pane,
sun rays sift through
strands of her mane,
they stroke my face.
She and
the sun collaborate
to reveal the brown
in my eyes,
little does she know
it's my love,
outed in glimpses
as the sun shines,
it's the dreams
of this autumn,
and how we'll be one
by then,
it's the brown of
the tree's leaves,
greeting us on
our usual strolls,
and when we lay
on each other's laps
on all the autumn eves.

Morrow's dawn
when I'm reborn,
the well known lad
will be long gone,
there aren't many
who'll mourn,
those who will
shouldn't for one,
the metamorph
will be who they
all should've known.
Blessing or a curse
I'll take it with
in all my lives,
the eternal longing
will be one of my wives
except even death
won't do us part.

Tell me how does it feel
to be on the flipside of things,
I bet there's joy in every second
So dreamy yet so real.
I've had my share of moments
and I keep reliving them.
The things I pen about,
Look at you actually living them.
Tell me how does it feel
to be on the flipside of things,
I bet there's beauty in every minute,
Every minute as soothing as
when a wind chime rings.
I have my share of beauty
I pen it down every night,
Look at you in this shining armour
posing as her knight.
Tell me how does it feel
to be on the flipside of things,
I bet there's charm in every hour,
Unlike this ordeal.
Often I pen about
how I starve for
these moments and then I
Look at you as the same
moments you devour.

Palm trees, streetlights,
dim strolls and caffeine,
her words and giggles
inches closer to morphine
and oh so giddy are the nights,
the reality just doesn't intervene.

And then I open my eyes
yet another misty morning,
half a year has passed by
but my heart is still yearning,
with the passing of each night
there's always a fairytale dream,
never will it make me vulnerable
even the bravest yearn,
silently we all make a wish
to the moonbeam
for nothing's ever enough.
It's hard to put into words
a dream that doesn't change,
just that it's always a different place
yet a part of it tends to stay,
from your tiny black eyelash
to the enormous warmth
of your being,
in the thick of it all is me
standing there looking at you
what else can I say,
And then I open my eyes
yet another misty morning,
half a year has passed by
but my heart is still yearning.

- diljeev

A fool for love
and for requite,
her golden brown mane
his fingers in tight,
souls were touched
in the night's quiet,
his tears roll a lane
her fingers in respite,
lover's etching their love,
sonnets they live
sonnets they write,
her golden brown mane
his fingers in tight,
then they sleep.

She was the moon
then the sun rose,
daylight looked on,
as he buried away
his dear prose,
a grave to mourn?
or a seed was sown?
She was the winter
then the sun rose,
all the blood bled,
all the tears shed,
manured into the land,
on which they both wed,
and in the deep ends lied
his dear prose.

The sun set on the pash
clouds, dirt and ash,
a little ways down the road,
looking back at the odes,
it'll be remembered
How she brought
a corpse to feeling,
staring, giggling at his ceiling,
how she was winter,
then it rained.

There you were
by my side watching me
wave my last goodbye,
pains my heart I won't get to
watch you wave yours.
To not see you draped
in your own charm,
as tears rolled down
your right eye as you wave
your last goodbye,
sadly it all ends,
with him getting
the best seat in the house,
holding your hand,
brushing his thumb on it
to console you,
as you cry in the light of
your last goodbye,
what I won't give god
to be him for this one night,
just to be there one last time
by your side watching.

- Diljeev

The thespian's dream
a perpetual affair,
stage lights and
the smell of your hair,
for it can be a billion eyes
but that one pair,
is supreme.

Pelting hail
on the window pane
awakens me,
jogs my memory,
a year passed in vain,
and a lucky man's year,
with his face buried deep
in her gold brown mane,
to think it was me,
wouldn't that be insane.

She is requite incarnate
the nemesis who filled me
for years with self hatred,
now she is mine to embrace,
it is everything I ever wanted
the answer to all my prays
and yet it almost isn't.
you see when you and yearning
share lifetimes of marriage
requite is ought to be the mistress,
the almost, budding into a miscarriage.
Yet I still love her,
is this how it'll always be?
a happy marriage with yearning
and the mistress, requite, the almost.
for lifetimes to come,
being my arch nemesis?

Endless voyages
but this one you go alone,
I did too
then I couldn't come home,
neither will you.
My exile won't go vain,
for it was your liberation
from unjust pain.

Oh the peculiar village,
her eyes carved out
from her visage,
thieved just to
look at the moon
and the stars' lagoon,
for the moon isn't the moon
the night isn't starry,
when not seen from her eyes,
she who seems married,
to the night sky of course.

Shivers of my worlds,
rivers of my words,
ardent to have flown
in the serene valley,
your mind hath sown.
So much I want to tell,
more than silences sell,
ones you read oh so well,
sightless to the world
but I see you see it all,
behind the childlike innocence
is a mother wrapped in her shawl,
how you see the moon set,
in a way no one else does,
how you talk to the horizon
that follows,
how the stars are kids
playing in the night's lawn,
how they allign silently
as you look on,
as if they are your own.

Days of nights,
a night of mirages,
souls longed for massages
and then morning dawned,
revealing a lonesome stairway
in the sunniest day,
so were the nights once,
the same day's
pitch black decay,
until the moon rose
from bombay,
eternities swayed,
lives changed,
so long as the moon stayed,
days of nights,
a night of mirages,
souls that longed for massages
and then the morning dawned.

Lemon tea cake slice
pink orange sunsets,
she's alone with them,
as the sea looks on
with its trinkets,
and so do the pets.
A voice so euphonious,
but it comes at a price,
the night knows her well,
the moons and the stars entice,
a pleasant heart to heart,
must be a great sight.

When it all turns disdain
when it all seems to go in vain,
myriad sounds of her breathings
slither in my brain,
while I catch my own,
with her and her alone.
My heart and the waves racing,
cheery puppies chasing,
as they look at the sun sink
so do they,
in the warm laps of heaven herself,
as she hums, as she sings.

And then a year later,
the ship sets sail
fleeing a year long sorrow,
into the tomorrow.

Each breath
calling out your name
a yearning for a last gaze,
every ear's thirst
for your voice,

a desire to quench it all
one of these days,
on you and me if there may
never dawn this tomorrow.

From the captain
to the cleaner himself,
they all yearn for it,
before they depart.

From the sky
to the ocean herself,
envy the troop's pining
for she who on the port
detract's the beauty
of this scene
for she who in their eyes
poses to be better than art.

- Diljeev

Each passing day
your ring's mark
digs it's grave in my skin,
not too long it's been
when our bodies tied knots,
when our souls married,
untied each other's knots,
untied each other from knots,
our tongues strangled
eyes sinking,
war of words,
or a lighthouse in floods
forbidden fruit in bloods,
lustings in the night's hoods,
immerse drops of me in the flesh
Oh! now a marriage of bloods.

- Diljeev

I gave her my coat
for more than just a day,
to thieve her scent
and take her all the way
home with me,
now I rue each day,
it shouldn't have been my coat
but my skin instead,
I'd have thieved her blood
complimentary to the scent,
for unlike the scent,
the blood wouldn't have faded,
we'd both pass away in peace,
with our souls jaded.

A lost confidant
parting after a brief jaunt,
the killing anticipation
of getting down on a knee
in the middle of a restaurant,
waves of the fleeting flowing time
trickling down fingers of mine,
then again,
pleasures of the swim
come from the fear of
being hauled by
this torrent's whim.

Potrait of a rainy night,
strands of her mane
are rain frozen in time,
the way the clouds and rain
immerse the moon in them,
so is her visage,
basking in her skin
through her mane,
the sole stars
in a night like this
are her eyes.
Words are this painter's brush
though none can sum up
how endlessly beautiful
her being is.

And then there was
A cliff's brink,
leap into the canyon,
plunge into the gape
to end up in her lap
beneath the banyan
or in vineyards of grape,
without a think,
let her fingers
run through your mane,
each strand rustles,
perhaps it'll always be fallacy
reality isn't profane.

Let's find refuge
on the misty clouds,
above the downpour
away from the crowds,
muffled in the sheet of stars,
I'll ****** your skin
like shrouds of silk,
under the dim light
of the moon lampshade.
I look up at the falling rain
and think of your hair
entwined in my fingers,
gliding leisurely without a care.
Sweet belle I hope to god,
before it all,
each one there is,
or if there even is one,
you find home in me,
in the face of
every storm to come.

It'll be salvation now
to breathe you in somehow,
oh in this dire massacre
graves appear,
as far as the eye goes.
Pawn off my soul,
this is my corpse's affair.
It'll be salvation now
to breath in your air.

Just as the selfsame moon
and the selfsame night,
pinches of dawn and daylight,
the selfsame giggles,
and the selfsame little fights,
all as exquisite as the first imprint
on my eyes' white,
hold me closer, hold me tight,
there'll be nothing left to recite.
Hand in hand, arm in arm,
just like the sand glass,
in which time fleets,
it'd be nice to have known
the night in the flesh,
and the necklace on her neck
with it's moon beads.

butterflies and sugar rush
looking at her mane brush,
rustling of novel pages
the endless sea
sat by the porch she,
why?
there's arousal for the causal,
and what followed since?
the fruit seems forbidden
and looks a lot like quince,
the endless sea,
sat by the porch she
where do the waves go
we shall see.