the misted air that arrives with the winter nights are laced with something strange The more I breath them in, I don't want to throw them out not that soon I want to hold them long enough that they could reach deep enough Enough to wet the bits of my soul That has grown infertile and dry Over the time, when the air around was not warm but burnt deep And I exhaled smoke while the heart skipped its beat
July was a sweet surprise...half way into August, and the next fifteen days...proved to be a ghost month....its days, painted with somber colors, and difficult times, the hours moved slowest, the sun hesitated to shine this September. October is uncertain.....definitely, apple pie and cinnamon scented winds will blow.....November's cheers shall segue into the last thirty one days of the year....December is the busiest month, a perfect time to put on hold, sadness and pain...a frail, fragile joy, dormant as a Rose bush in winter, shall rest, to breathe again, to bloom again in early Spring.
Standing in front of the mirror, I always try to look sober, When precisely I'm losing my consciousness, Only the mirror knows. I feel my surrounding falling apart, When I start looking into my eyes. I saw a child, as the tears start rolling down! A smile she gave and shattered my dreadful memories. She is the one who adheres to my thoughts, Looking back to myself makes me frightened more. I'm standing in front of the mirror, Just wiping the tears slipped from the shore.
I am torn Ripped apart Fragments of regret pile Cherished memories make it harder To let go of years shared as one I want to carry on Make the most of life without you I chose this path without you And yet I cling to distant highlights of our lovereel How brillant and sabotaging that our brain only recalls the good after the darkness has lifted