The weather seems alright, beautiful and uptight,
Sweet with less avarice, an endless horizon, and a fleeting sight.
In my world, she was the weather,
I could do anything, but with her, I seem to do better.
Nothing seemed impossible, not even venturing through the Nether.
Effulgent was her presence; enticing, her nature,
The talks kept getting better and better and better,
It felt like the one we were looking for was here to savor.

Malicious and full of grief that once seemed as my future,
Looked like a disoriented thought more than ever.
I remember,
Back in the day when I was wilding,
Beautiful waves of comedic relief were a frequent sighting,
I used to have fun and not fight,
These demons, these thoughts that were always spouting,
Restraining me since I always doubted (myself),
But I knew there's always something,
To get me started,
I relinquished myself from ever doubting.

Nostalgic,
Thought that would be the way to deal with such things,
Big mistake! Because I got apprehended,
Condescending, thoughts got crazy; nobody to talk to, baby.
Misdirection, mazes of maybes, intercepting, decisions hazy,
On second thought, this person's lazy.

Now in a field of darkness, so full of despair,
I found you out of nowhere,
A spark of light and a gasp for air,
That's what I felt when my gaze landed upon you,
That even I could prosper, even by the length of a hair.
I was delighted for that came as a conclusion,
For a long time, I hadn't smiled, but then I did, as if I were adhered,
Sickeningly, any bond I form is doomed to fall, I fear,
Regardless of how much I do, it's always a "Too Sweet" kind of dilemma, my dear,
I don't easily love, but I loved you, even if it was due to my insecurities and issues, I state my mind clear,
Kind of pointless to rant and yap to myself, writing paragraphs upon paragraphs, hoping you'd notice; clowning myself, makes me jeer,
I guess that's how the story goes for a hopeless romantic expecting love to be simple as he was sincere.

With all these melodramatic events, I reckon he could really do some improv,
One such thing is doing a show, but won't it be too rough?
He might become yet another one to bite the dust,
A victim of emotion,
A victim of trust.
Life's predicament is quite harsh and if not for his experience, he'd been lost,
Though sounds drastic and revolting,
Giving up can also be a sign of love,
A hope for emotion,
A hope for trust,
Thus, this lousy "Rascal doesn't dream of falling in love”.

                                                                                      -Asher Graves

notches on the bedpost
i'd rather count the freckles on your skin
i do not have a bedframe, an empty plaque
but i have my little scrawls of whim
and the tumbling scars on my back,
a rather pallid mosaic
of the sheer audacity of living
but please, count them until daybreak?

Welcome !!

This is your house,
A door little tall,
The pet mittle spouse.

See ,
Those ten eyes ,
Lids some closed
The view is suffice,
Clatter of wood ,
Thud due wind,
And curtains fright.

Please make your way inside !!

This is the home in which you reside ,
This is where ,
you slept a myriad of nights.
Yes , this is the veranda of
Your childhood sunbaths,
Memory of joy,
Playing hard as mad .

Ooo,
It's your room,
Look at those doodles
On the walls,
Sketches of sun and crows
Signing your name ,
Across.

It's the TV you saw growing,
The fridge which colour's been fading
The bathroom's door which been
Cranking ,

(Joyful laugh)

Come beside,
Let's go on the roof ,
Take a breath
Let's move in a loop,
Sip of fresh air
Then make a move.

Reminisce the sunset ,
& The glare of moon ,
The panorama of lush green
silvered by lune.

This is your home
Not just a brick or stone ,
You spent your life here
Not just a shade of mere ,

This is a sweater of
Wool of will
The sweater that
has to be worn even
It's summer ,
It is an antique which
Only you can weave ,

So tell me ,

Why do you want to leave ?

to find peace in a stranger's embrace,
a risk i find myself willing to take.
and i know it's a strange kind of quest
to love with each pained breath.
yet i can't bring myself to reside
in a soulless abode of bitterness and lies.
so carry on, as will i,
to see a thread of myself
in every passerby.

They say you can tell,
A lot about a man.

Based on the company he keeps.
If it's sour or if it's sweet.

You can tell a lot about a man.
Based on what he has in his wallet.

Maybe it's a note or two.
Something sentimental.
Or really rather special.

I've met many men you see.
Still I have not met all.

Some are kind and  clear.
Like water or fresh air.

Others are clever like a snake.
Twisting around your mind.

You can tell a lot about a man.
By the company he keeps.

By the wallet he holds.
By the light in his eyes.

Still with all of this.
You'll never truly know a man.

Until you look at the girl,
He's in love with.
Then do me a favour.

Go talk to her instead.

She'll tell you everything.
You ever needed to know.

driving an old car in need of repairs
you feel every oddity
from the creaky, heavy door and
the every-so-often squeaky brakes,
the manual roll-down windows

sometimes you gotta hit the dash
to get your scratched CD playing,
old cars have warm static hums and
headlights glowing in amber
the sweet smell of carpeted seats baked in sun

when flirting with the future,
i drove a new car and it felt
as sterile as a spaceship -
you're unaware of its machinery that
makes it just like every other car.

to love me like how you love your
cheap hmart wine, to sentimentally sip
at me until you are tipsy and having a
good time; and if i have nothing more to
give, set my empty self on a distant shelf—
forever is a paradise, even if to only ever
hear your laughter from the sidelines