How simple an answer it was, to a difficult question,
"Hold my hand", we would have said with a sea of emotion.
But a good heart is not meant to keep score,
It just seeks another heart, to love, to adore,
Or so we thought, for very long,
Until one day, we were proven very wrong.

Fingers trying to ***** just a twig, just a leaf,
Even one, broken apart from the tree we seeded together,
Watered and watched grow, laughed and played beneath,
Prayed for and protected from rough weather.

Didn't we work through the weeds at that time?
How then the roots rot, without reason or rhyme?
The tree still stands but not with that old strength,
Like our own special symbol of a love never meant.

We watched the bridges burn,
Ashes and smoke, almost to the point of no return.
Blisters from words and uncaring eyes so scathing,
We just weren't admitting - it was all ending.

Our yesterdays forgotten, our todays orphaned, we must let them go,
As dust will slowly settle upon an untouched memory though.
Like a period to a long running sentence.
And think that it was all only a pretense...

They called my skin the color of chocolate,
A dimple that they could lose a penny in,
Long hair the wind sweeping their dreams,
Sparkling eyes like doors to the woman within.

They balked at my age when I smilingly answered,
Wondering if I bathe in the fountain of youth,
How is it that I kept it so alive and kicking,
So beautiful and strong, almost altering the truth.

"Let me breathe in your essence", someone said,
"I knew I would fall for you", someone else,
"Wait till you become an actress", as I boarded a train,
But you know, I wasn't really trapping hearts myself.

Don't get me wrong, I love the adulation,
But it might all fade as I get older,
I grew up to understand something very firmly though,
Beauty lies in the eye of the beholder.

I wanted to be loving, I wanted to be kind,
The wonderful kind that would make anyone kind,
She who embraces life, and wins against odds,
With all the power and beauty of her mind.

Wild dreams keep me on my toes every day,
From chasing butterflies to building empires,
A web of fantasies, that gets denser every moment,
Living life with all that my heart desires.

Thank you for calling me the color of chocolate,
Telling me that I look fetching, and all that admiring,
I will take all of it graciously,
And also become strong, loving and inspiring.

What happended to the days of passion,
Feverish desires to conquer the inconquerable,
Ideas that were potently viral, splitting your being,
Or kisses and letters stolen from paradise.

I just had an inkling...
Never felt the pulse losing,
But then I kept lying,
While it kept dying.

A slow, painful death.

Of the flower losing its petals,
Slowly, parting ways from its sepals...
Sometimes in a very vast garden, you do miss a flower or two.
Don't tend to it as you must do.
Those that now lie on the earth,
What are all they worth?
And what when the flower was in the bloom,
Bathed in warm sun, and caressed by the moon,
Mere remembrances of the life that once was,
Just another dead flower to remind all good must pass.
Now only a soft fragrance in memories,
Hoping that one little bud will again grace the nursery.

How can one person be the solidification of all my dreams,
Like when you open that box there is fragrance of peace,
Of the meaning of life, of the significance of each breath,
Like a little fluffy cloud that picked you up from despair and took you to wonderland,
Like a little boat with flippers that waded through troubling waters for you,
A giant mountain that gave you vertigo but stunted your ignorance,
A dangerously deep ocean that sunk you in the serenity of truth.
A magnificent, shiny stone, precious among the alchemists,
A knowing touch, a trust so profound,
Condensing all of my life in his palms,
Like delivering me to the other side,
Like I have seen the face of God,
and that was it, I said, take away my name, take away my existence,
Be it that this man has made me known what life is.

A sacred haven for my scandalous secrets,
Incessant rants and causeless regrets,
A fierce champion, an astute philosopher,
A pocket of sunshine, a partner in crime,
Reason for my light, reason for my tears,
Reason for my smiles, reason for my fears.

I saw myself in his eyes, neatly wrapped in a tear never fallen.

While they called me a hopeless romantic,
I thanked my heart because it wasn't - it was a seat of hope and desire.
True to my name.
And his heart was a seat of love and wisdom.
That was protected from the world's desires.
But how utterly beautiful now to give away to anonymity,
Because my existence cannot be defined or held together in a few letters anymore.
Amid that truthful presence.
But the most important,
The source of my purity,
The depth of my kindness,
Beacon of my wisdom,
How can one man be...
But he is.
But he is..

My Lord...
My parched eyes pine for the mercy of becoming your abode,
I pray I have enough teardrops to wash your lotus feet,
My hope never sinks that the most fortunate day must come,
That all I am left with is, is offering you my heartbeat.

My Lord...
Every blooming flower from the garden of my heart,
Aspires to become a part of the garland embracing your glorious neck,
Coloring itself bright, very busy sweetening it's own nectar,
Wishing that it be touched by your luminescence before losing its breath.

My Lord...
I relentlessly look around for a devout soul singing your sweet name,
Submerged in the deep, boundless ocean of your transcendence and bliss,
Mere human that doesn't want a want that is without you,
Seeking sweet pleasures that come with your eternal service.

My Lord...
My words always fail themselves in an attempt to come close to describe you,
All I know is that you tremble my heart with love and power at the same time,
I will never know if I am worthy of the joys that the most exalted have experienced,
I kneel in prayer however that you touch every thought that crosses my mind.

In this vast universe...
All the beautiful things, serene and pacific,
All the lovely things, enchanting and fantastic,
All the ugly things, vile and vitriolic,
All the material things, superficial and plastic,
All the pleasurable things, addictive and hedonistic,
Everything you've bestowed upon me, I humbly offer to you along with me.

How many stories you patiently weave into my soul,
How many places you make me go; sights you make me see,
How you overwhelm me with exciting highs and excruciating lows,
While all I really wish is to just become free.

But still bound...only by your love.

Peace was our bedside lamp,
My perversities were yours,
Your kindness was mine,
The sunny days were ours.

You walk with me, I walk with you
Together we keep each other company...
You morph in my shape,
Not a strand of hair out of place,
Why would my feelings be any different then?
Are you telling me to look inward?

But unlike the breath that stays with me both day and night and I feel her, you have a liking only for the light.

Why do you do that?

Only manifest when the world is shining and gone when the stars are shining...
You might say why do you even care because we do not speak even when I am there.
True. The fault is mine. I should.
Reflect on your being.

Will you tell me who you are?
Will you find a voice in me?
Will you see the world through my eyes?
Will you marvel and agonize like I do?
Will we ever know each other?

I may pride now in knowing that you exist because I do,
But would you come shatter it?

Wouldn't it be a delight to know that I exist because you do?

Have the oceans ever felt a thirst,
Mountains a desire to kiss their feet,
Skyscrapers the laughter from little coffee shops,
Deep pockets the riches of nothingness...

There was something in the way she held back her curses,
In how fidgety she was despite pins and needles in her hands,
How she closed her eyes even though her heart was sinking,
And then suddenly lit up the room with childish laughter.

In the world of lines and curves,
I was questioned at the doorstep,
"Are you a line or a curve?",
I decided I was a curve, and they let me in in the group of curves.
Somebody asked, "Why is your curve not curvier? You must go to the lines instead."
I said, "Fair enough", and moved over to the group of lines.
Somebody said again, "You are too crooked to be a line. Go away!"
Disappointed, I realized I had nowhere to go.
There was no group for me. I was a curvy, crooked line.
I was a "******".

Then,
Along came a curve, and a line,
They were curious of what it would mean to push their boundaries.
So I asked them to hold hands.
And suddenly I realized I was not alone.
I held their hands too, and we were transformed,
We wriggled and jiggled, and broke our molds,
And formed a perfect circle.
From our imperfections.
Now I belonged somewhere.
And I am not a "******" anymore.

You exist now in my memories,
Maybe you're safe there.
Beneath the veneer of the hazy present,
Beyond your own doubts and inhibitions,
Your blatant lies, and brutal confessions,
Yes, you're safe with me, like you always used to be.