Optimism means
to see,
the distance you covered,
not the time it took,
for you to reach there.

Optimism means
to see,
the strength to get up,
in the legs
that limp and stagger.

Optimism means
to see,
the intention behind
every action,
And not the consequences.

Optimism means
to see,
an oasis,
if only just an illusion,
In the middle of the vast,
scorching desert around you.

Optimism means
to look for,
beauty in rubble,
order in chaos,
And
hope in desperation.

I imagine you to be a quiet person.
The socially awkward one, the one who likes the thought of being thought of as a thoughtful person, but one who ends up blurting out something irreversibly stupid.
I imagine you to be romantic, believer of true love. One who dreams of kisses under pink skies.
I imagine you to be intriguing and somehow delicate; like a cute little bird that needs to be observed from far.
I imagine you to be private, one who locks up not only his words, but emotions inside pages that are shoved and buried inside the depths of your heart.
I imagine you to be wearied by life, thinking about the future while you stir coffee.

Or maybe how I imagine you just reflects me.

On nights when you feel lonely
    And your head is buried in pillows
When breaths come in short gasps
    because the tears won't stop....
  
                                           Wherever I am,
                         I will feel an ache in my soul,
                   And I will know you are hurting.

So I will sing you
     your favourite tune, a lullaby♫
To put your heart at ease.
                
                                    And then you can sleep
                            undisturbed by nightmares,
           And you'll open your eyes only when
                              the darkness is gone...

And the sun shines
once more in your life.*
_____

              *On nights when you feel nothing,
                Just an emptiness for no reason...

I will send you a star. ☆
      Out of my heart, it will ride a cloud
and reach your window; tapping..

                     And as you stare at in wonder,
                Circling your head, the star will do
                                little funny dances,

And when you're tired from laughing
and fall asleep,
The star will tiptoe out, board the cloud,
And return straight back to my heart.
                        
                                 ­            And I will smile...

Tired head on mum's lap,
Her voice dissolves all worries.
Lovely paradise.

Cherish all good things, while you can,
Each and every woman, each and every man.
Little do you know, when your life will take a turn,
Everything you had, maybe lost in a short span.
Be free, don't confine your mind and soul,
Remember to be happy, atleast once a day,
All will be, as it should be, it's not under your control,
Try to appreciate yourself and throw your worries away.
E**ndings always hurt, but "make it a good one, eh?"

Haha :p

A little phrase of love and support from a stranger,
suddenly sweetens everything
like warm honey that trickles on toast.
A word or two of empathy
like sugar cubes and
a hug that feels like summer.

Tonight I wish,
You don't hug your pillow and cry yourself to sleep,
And the demons of your past don't bury you in guilt.

Tonight I wish,
You dream of happy times,
And I hope you know they are soon to arrive.

Tonight I wish,
You forget all your sorrow,
And live to see the light of tomorrow.

Tonight I wish,**
No soul decides to silently quit the world,
while I sleep.
And no one bleeds out rivers of red,
And that every single soul is warm and cozy in bed.

Shared laughter, mem'ries,
Dinner, toasts to our good health,
Friends, family and love.

A blank notebook stares at me,
Crisp pages, neat edges and lines
A pencil sharpened until the tip ******,
placed by the side.

I carefully carve slanted letters,
bundle them into words, into sentences..
and gradually,
I switch to sketches and doodles;
weird shapes,
mindlessly drawn (mostly spirals)..
Dragging the pencil to and fro
until it becomes blunt and curved.

Pens are convenient
but pencils are better.
You can always erase the mistakes,
though they leave scars and marks.

How long I sit there, I don't know.

I go to sleep,
and an abandoned notebook,
buried under tomes,
sits quietly on the desk,
telling the stories I've written.

On all 4 sides, Darkness surrounds me. As far as the eye can see.
Thousands and thousands of them. It's a stampede!
I'll never make it out of here, I believe.

But then I find Happiness,
pushing through the crowd towards me,
smiling through the sweat, what a relief!
But there are thousands still searching,
"Where could my Happiness be?!"
It is so disheartening my friend
That there is nothing, absolutely nothing I can do
To lighten your grief.