There are times when she’ll be missing love:
The feeling to love and to be loved back in return,
which perfect would be the fittest word to explain.

However, the situation is like this:
She’s kind of a piece of puzzle, which is still unsure of the shape it is in,
so is another shape it is looking for to complete.

Have you ever missed someone so greatly,

till your heart grieves dolefully from dawn to dusk and dawn,

your soul achingly starves of rendezvous,

yet you let the innocent remain as is.



Only, surreptitiously hoping,

that you two would run into one another unpredictably,

as if mother nature coincidentally let you two converge,

or as the God unexpectedly grants your bedtime prayers.



Because, you barely can stand

having your very own deceptive, polished outer shell

cracked down.



You hardly let the scrupulous persona

envisage your constant cravings

for his perfunctory good mornings, eloquent wordings, and dainty giggles.



And, by no least,

you’re afraid he will sneak into your ice-masked, truthfully fragile personality,

only to discover your non-seraphic quintessence.

On an early morning
Dew whispers to flower petal
The bright yellow one
Which surrounding looks just like one


"I'm afraid I won't see you again
Once the heat starts dissolving me
Else, a beautiful bloom is to be picked
in any time soon, I believe"


Embracing the clingy chilly droplet
Flower petal whispers back,
"Well, for love is always some evers
Indeed, never is a forever"

Maybe
I was like a rose to you
Alluring from a distance
Hence you came after me

These velvety maroon petals
Who wouldn't fall within seconds?
A grab on the beneath stem
At last you felt my hidden thorns

I said to myself
We're all imperfect, after all
For thou shall know what love is
A will to suffer yet to forgive

The time you'd spent for loving me was like petrichor. It hypnotized me, enchanted me, inspired me. It brought me serenity, bliss and rhapsody.

Yet, indeed, lasting was never an element of it.