In a city of excruciating love,
where there's a moon
that shining bright for it's darkness
but that darkness didn't want
to be guarded by the moon's bloom.

And there's a sun that keep in rising
every morning in the eastern part
and falling— in love
every night in the western part
for the sake of her reverse.

To bloom for it's obligations
that never would be the sun.
because both of them are created
to make a day and night,
keep going and tight.

Not to meet each other,
not to be together.

I found a treasure box that filled with dusks
that doesn't have a golds or diamonds on it,
but got a simple antiquated photographs
that displayed what occurred on my past life.

The rainbow by refraction of the sun's rays
the times that there's no great challenges
positivity is just living at heart of my personify—
illusory of hope's beauty can make me satisfy.

The star that origin from the southeastern part
the vis-à-vis of waking up and talk to my friends,
counting one to ten while my eyes are closed
seeking their wonderful visages with a curve.

Those flowers in the yard that starts to bloom,
taking it and say he loves me or he loves me not
while eating some soil and collecting the petals,
marked a colourful stains on my vesture.

The moon's gloom that guide me to my home
after a almost a day of playing out-of-door,
and everything will start again tomorrow
but all of what happened is now a part of yore.

how do you know she's a poetess?
she'll mess with your brain just for inspiration.

There were many Poets/poetess
who are forgotten by now.

They used to write every other day
spending most precious moments here.

But now I don't find them any more,
replaced by new one's I suppose.

Either they write on their on
or continue with their life as it flows.

I miss all of you.

शायरी भी एक खेल है
शतरंज का…
जिसमे लफ़्ज़ों के मोहरे
मात दिया करते हैं एहसासों को…
और शहंशाह अक्सर तनहा हो जाते हैं!!

Poetry,
a game of chess,
In which
the words, the chess pieces
keep defeating
the feelings
and
the winners end up lonely!!