Writing about him
Is an addiction
That I convince myself
Is in remission,
But my heart knowingly
Sees through the deception.

Writing about him
Is an undying compulsion,
Just like loving him is.

Start writing
the words will follow

Start asking
the answers will come

Start loving
let it change your heart

Fill the page. Fill the blanks. Love inconveniently.


Just start.

You probably saw her sometime, but
Didn't spare her more than a second look,
Demure girl, purple kurta-white salwar,
Quite routine, nothing out of the books.

Oh but I saw her, the true her,
Slender hands controlling a sturdy Enfield,
Salwar flapping wildly, freely against the wind.
Must admit, I couldn't stop looking!

Children all learn
that sharing is caring
and that it's the right thing to do
as we grow older
we hate people staring
especially of something...we've two

i'd give you the stars
if i had them
i'd give you the moon
and the sun
i gave you my heart
when i owned nothing else
i shared it with you
i had one

possessions are gathered
and hoarded
by people who share only grief
i've seen people with nothing
share something each day
it's a smile, and hope and belief

i'd give you whatever you wanted
but, you'd never ask
for something that big
i'd give you a diamond
from the depths of the earth
and i don't care
how deep i should dig

i gave you my heart
when i had nothing else
i had one and i shared it with you
it's the best thing i've given
for the love that it's shared
just imagine
if i had had two!!!