Prose, a photo
Poetry, pencil sketch,
                                       in five lines.

We see not with eyes but heart
We hear not with ears but heart
We think not with mind but heart
                                                           ­   Helen Keller,
                                                                                      wise beyond sight.

And we feel not with heart but in the guts.

The photo breathes joy
I leave it out. It urges
me to be better

When I Take A Selfie

I always have a lot of fun
In the mist of my own
I fall in love with me
When I take a selfie

I walk around the place
Caring for my pretty face
It is so pleasing to me
When I take a selfie

I meet girls and women
And tell them in vain
This is memory for me
When I take a selfie

My beauty drives me crazy
Always keeps me busy
I always think only of me
When I take a selfie

I get an immense pleasure
To open up the treasure
I look at none but me
When I take a selfie

S. Bharat

Our love only exists in a picture frame.

Yes, it's sad.
I often think of all our good times;
all the laughter.

Then I remember why we are no more;
because of me.

I keep it on my desk.
It sits there, collecting dust.
Sometimes I have to put it away.

"How can I love someone who doesn't love themselves?"
I remember your words.
They cut into my heart.

I'm why our love only exists in a picture frame.
Yes, it's sad.

No more kissed cheeks or warm blush,
no more holding hands or open smiles.

Did you think this would make me happier?
Well
you were wrong.

All my happiness
exists in you.