When the sun goes down there,
It rises up here.
When you go to sleep there,
My day starts here.
When you stop shedding tears there,
A smile starts here.
When you get cuter there,
I blush over here.
When the smile ends there,
My day darkens here.
You’re back in India there,
I’m back in the US here.
But baby, you know what?
I love you, no matter what!

~ PG

Can I drown
In your familiar blue
Travel across the miles
Climb up to
Your window
Make myself
A home with you
Let's build up
A pillow fort
Close the windows
Lock the doors
Shut away the sun
And watch our
Flowers grow
Somehow nocturnal
With only your eyes
To light me up
There's no need
To worry though
I'll forever bloom
With you

I was told your soul would have left in three days
But sometimes it feels like you are still here
Looking at me
Smiling
As if you never left
That day in 2016

Searching for shooting stars on the hood of my car
Music blaring in the background
Feeling content in the moment
Yet I wish you were back now

Life gets easier the longer you’re gone
But I’ll never forget about the things that went wrong
Sometimes I wish I could fix it
Life isn’t the same without you
In it

I guess I need to have faith that everything happens for a reason
And life changes like the seasons
Fall, spring, summer, winter...
No matter what I just wish you were still here

. . . Maybe if I learn . . .
. . . . . . . Another language . . . . . . .
. . . . From a different time . . . .
. . Meant for different people . .
. . . . . I could write us . . . . .
. The love story we could have had .

Put the gun up to my head
Pull the trigger
Now she's dead
Doesn't really matter anyways
Tomorrow is here

The flowers have burst their buds
And the rivers will start to flood
But she lies cold in a patch of daises
Like a queen amongst her subjects
But she rules over none

And as the sky bleeds into grey
It dosn't matter anyway
Because tomorrow is here to stay

Notice, nextime you are in a pasture
on a frosty morn,

the cows follow the bull in single file,
each dropping
a morning load of ...
you know ... on a frosty morn,

steam rises in fragile pillars of cloud that hold
the most delicate rainbows
mortal eye may see.