And she wasn't seeking any praise affirmatively,
But what her body was on ice block ceasing; craving for insanity,
Insanity of "love" one of the unique curse ,
She had the thirst,
Of Station to the location for a pair of eyes,
Admiring inmost from blood to where the insecurities lies,
Facing towards the absolute sky,
Repeating the uttermost fantasies of her life,
Smiling and setting peace beyond a mile ,
Beautiful than thousands of successful rhymes,
What she wants I know she barely knows but she lies ,
I wish she could have a look through my eyes.

©akashmazumdar

I am a bookshelf
filled with books
arranged by their hue
that hold my own stories and experiences
so why did you think
you could take the books that once belonged in her
and fit them in me

i. create a whole book in which
that is the premise
ii. ink your skin with a something yellow
a sunflower will do just fine
iii. start wearing more yellow tones
iv. turn your eyelids into a sunrise
v. form a list of yellow objects and cross off the ones
that have betrayed you in the past
vi. eat as honey like Van Gogh ate paint
and then maybe, just maybe
you have rewritten the whole definition
of yellow

Pour the painted words onto a canvas of self.
Let them overflow in a cringing nightmare.

Allow the darkness to be the backdrop of pain
Fill foreground with the light of life.

Feather the details of first love,
Between the fine grains of heartbreak.

May this portrait of vibrant existence,
Be all the suffering and joy it is meant to be.

In the valleys of mediocrity, complacency,
Cultivate brushstrokes of brilliance and wonder.  

The shades of blue sorrow, the reds of rage.
The green envies, the white serenity.

All of it, all together, the beauty of togetherness.
The good, the bad, and every bit of it you.

Paint me a picture
Show me the world
Through Color and beauty
It never grows old.

Draw me as I am
Freeze me in time
Capture the moment
Leave the Past behind.

Sculpt and carve
Build up and chip away
Make something that will stay here
Stand Tall and never sway

Create something, anything
A picture or a memory
Remember forever
Keep it safe for me.

This paint brush has become
an extension of my hand.
It has sunk it's color pumping living
veins into me.
Now, my hand aches
dripping crimson, everytime I put it down.

This pen has become an extension of my hand.
A sixth finger extends dripping ebony
ever scratching ivory surface,
vexing to keep the hourglass full,
of sand.

I am no longer
My body.
     I am my tools of creation.

He has eyes you can drown in but I am reluctant to swim, he is very charming and has fire within. He can make me happy and he can make me sad but I don't want him to see the true me Because no one ever has, no, I don't mean my shell I mean my soul for I fear if he looks within I will lose control. So here is my version I have made for myself the picture I paint for everyone else.