He is in love with questions,
Little questions that she asks to him,
And the lilting world of words,
With the fabric of philosophy,
Taste of fresh ideas,
Interpretation of dreams and zodiacs,
And definitely for her stupid riddles.

But at the same moment

He is in love with one who left,
And the poisoned past he baths in,
With being perpetually lonesome,
In love with terrible yet beautiful memories,
With darkness, deep and coveted,
And holds scars for the one who left.

But what is actually happening

His soul is getting grey,
On journey with black and white passengers.

His body is getting ****,
With dusky heart and lightened mind.

Sadness and madness has held him together,
over and again.