I do a lot of internalized talking:
into late hours of the night.
so I'm bound to stumble upon,
  (Surely, I just might!)
something substantial- sometime.

How I wish: that she were enthralled-
by the idea of spending time with me.

"This petulant peasant- this, so called,
man, or boy, who dreams of thee
before and after- he go to sleep!"

I'm happiest at 4:25 in the morning
few cars on the highway
and fewer voices in this space
something about being alone
in peace and quiet
provides me with the solitude and time for
reflection that keeps me sane
I never know what keeps me up
but I know what keeps me away
The noise of the day is approaching
And while I can feel my heart getting heavy
i long for the next time 4:25 and I meet again.

At times I make love to my confusion,
that paradoxical craze,
at other times it's as if I'm losing,
my mind throughout the haze

At times I could move mountains,
as prideful as the air,
at other times comes illusion,
where faith becomes a snare

When I hear the ticking silence,
a torment deep within.
then I fear I'm in defiance,
abhorrently in sin

its that special time between
the winter and autumn
when its sometimes snowing
and there’s no sunshine
to come leaking through
the clouds are thick at this time

And I woke up from a whimsical slumber
just as when my cloudless eyes
have seen the first leaf of Spring
So delicate it was...

Like a tulip starting to bloom;
A promise made to someone special;
A spell hidden in a magic trick
And a mended heart after the torment...

Flashbacks started to be unveiled
laughter...
happiness...
endless fights...
tears...
late night thoughts...
countless dramas...

then love fades...

Oh! The sprinkles of the past
Where emptiness creeps
Where walls of regrets visit
But the morning light explodes still

Everything is delicate indeed
Like the leaf that soon will break off in time
Secrets hidden in a jar of fear
Wound that heals after a decade
And pain that remains for quite sometime

Gayle Foreman's right
Anything can happen in just one day...

There are five types of people
you can find in a market.
Some are there to buy, simple
some never find anything correct
some want to just hop around
from this shop to that shop
some are there just to meet friends
nothing to do what all fashion trends
hanging out, chilling at a wrong place
like on this planet, the whole of human race

I am here, just to admire, the beauty
expressed by these clothes, flesh and diversity
someone's curves, something's color
smile of a sweet girl, captivating like no other
the fit of her fancy dress, the way she walks
her bare legs moving to this catchy tune
like on a sunlit dessert, golden rays
silhouetted on the sand dune.
They say not to look at girls in that way
why do they dress and make up
if no one is there to appreciate it, I say
please do not mistake me for a ***** pervert nuisance
as I am here just to be happy, in utter silence
for its a market, and not a field of violence.