Whenever I stare at you, you also gaze.
You have beautiful eyes; I'm amazed.
Words cannot convey the turban's grace,
Its presence adds to your beauty's embrace.

Your bright face, your sparkling eyes,
Your fancy pearl, your charming smiles
All are attractive, all are impressive,
All are simple, all are amazing.

But, Maria, whispers linger,
Making you seem untouchable.
Whispers stay,
Saying you're deceitful.

Yet, Maria, despite the whispers,
No matter what the rumor’s tale,
My loyalty to you shall never fail.

it let the bird fly,
learn, grow, change.
but when the bird falls,
stays the same, decays,
a thrill climbs up our bones
as the crack of the wishbone
echoes in our expectant ears
like a loud, resounding gong -
as our supposed fate awaits.

I await the calm, the bleach
of night, that chapter

when my ribs
unbreak, crawl back

around my cageless heart. eyelids
weigh like lead in this cruel gravity--

they swell faster than tears. tears
that fail to surge me out of this flooded

shell; they close
like every marble door

that stands straight between my dreams
and I,

           and you-- I await
you, draped in downpours & monsoon

tempests; maybe, this time, our wildest
winds would fade out in their collision.

The suspense kills them
Or at least the parents who support
Awaiting for the cue
If I don't in a few, I'm gonna pass out.
So without further a due
Breath and...

The colors that have drained
from the dreams of people,
lie cluttered on the doorway
of their homes.
Everytime they try to leave
for something more practical
and more safe life, that they chose,
that awaits them everyday
and does not keep them worrying
about what all they can loose.
Everytime they step out,
even in hurry,
they sidestep that clutter.
Look at it from the corner of their eyes
and for a second their heart seems aware
of the frost that is killing it.
For a second the reasons for the
sleepless night and blank gazes is recalled.
But the limbs keep moving
to keep a distance from hopes
that never materialize.
On their way back home
they dread to see
the clutter of discarded dreams.
But they want to believe
that ignoring and forgetting it
becomes easier with time.
Although it never has.