I still remember
Those months of December,
I used to see you every day,
Always there—come what may.

Oh, listen, Mr. Poet!
You forget me when  You're okay,
But come to me on your low day.
You say I’m your “chub,”
No—I say I'm just your convenient love.

That's a serious allegation,
I remember you in every situation,
Even  in  times of desperation.
In these years that have gone by,
I still remember the moments
We said goodbye.

Never heard from you in years,
Now you count me in your peers.
Dare I say—
You are just a self-centered narcissist,
I fear.

Okay, I surrender to you in silence.
Maybe it was my fault
That our bond faced those jolts.
Thinking my eyes would say
What my lips can't,
I thought you would hear the words
That my heart chants!

Love cannot be a one-way road;
It comes with heavy prices.
Practice it—if you can afford!

It's all about freedom;
She decides whether to stay
Or part ways.
I hope I get back to those lovely days !

Maybe you're not the one—
This truth might make your heart burn.
Yes, you'll be left with never-ending woe,
But it's judicious to let her go.

On a gloomy, quiet night,
It's funny how someone
Finds their vision and light.

During the day,
When everything is loud and clear,
They find nothing to cheer.
But as sunset fades into dawn,
They stop to cry and moan.

People call them anti-social,
Judge them for not being vocal.
They treat silence like treasure,
Finding a path in melancholic pleasure.
-ATUL VAIBHAV SHARMA

They don't belong in the same sky;
He and she can never be together.
And people ask, "Why?"
Their bond was never meant to thrive—
Because the moon disappears when the sun arrives.

When the moon was lighting up the night,
The sun was watching her from a distance.
His feelings were deep and consistent,
But little did he know:
The moon disappears when the sun arrives.

The sun saw his moon from far away,
Hoping to meet her
In the brightness of the day.
As dawn approached the sky,
She was nowhere to be seen.
What could it possibly mean?
People only reiterated:
"The moon disappears when the sun arrives".

ATUL VAIBHAV SHARMA

Even in a state of melancholy,
he described her so elegantly,
knowing she had left him in his solitude—
as he was the poet, and she, his poetry.

In his writings,
there wasn't even a pinch of criticism.
He took all the blame on his narcissism—
as he was the poet, and she, his poetry.

He was questioned for his description;
people called "her" his fiction,
for in his words,
she symbolized perfection.

A moon with no blot—
who could conceive such a thought?
"Yes," he says,
"this time, the sun had blots."

Even in the depths of his despair,
she was described as generous and fair.
People asked him to make amends—
"That's where my poetry ends,"
as he was the poem, and she, his poetry

Hold me on a winter's night,
Stay there till it gets shiny & bright .

I found peace in the midst of noise
with you I found my voice ....
You look good when u smile
I stop everything & look at you for a while
Hold me on a winter's night !

In purple,pink or blue.......
she always shines and leaves me with no clue  .
Hold your blinds
I wanna see some sunshine.
Hold me on a winter's night!


with no direction....
Feeling of dejection
There is only one truth left
that's of  your affection .
Hold me on a winter's night!

-Atul Vaibhav Sharma