You're so beautiful in the mornings
With your wild hair and grumpy mood
Mumbling about the early alarm
Scrunched eyes, looking for your glasses
Saying good morning to me quietly 
Even sometimes still groggy
Even sometimes half asleep 
I get to wake up to that 
And every morning
I get to fall in love all over again

And if words
Abandon me too,
I'd dip this pen with your name,
Into the river of my veins.
So my soul could tell,
That you are
The poetry
That pulses within me.

Poetry is still
written between the lines,
like a language without a map.
We are the only ones
who have not read it.

That poem is that smile
that flows through the
eastern mountains hidden
in the snow with the pouring rain,
without touching the rocks.

That smile is
never indecipherable,
but it carries the
rhythm of time,
the music of society,
the scent of forgotten paths
and the sweet language
of women.

The riots are still not less
Even though the
old letters
have faded
Only some songs
we don't know

In many ways I was broken,
No matter what, never was shaken,
All my happiness is now taken,
My emotions ran behind you, leaving forsaken…

My sorrows, an incident well-orchestrated,
My happiness was buried deep and now it has departed
From my life, which was very well decorated,
You arrived, now into pieces it’s shattered…

My world is dark and quiet with your absence,
Everything around me looks empty, all at once,
However far, no matter the distance,
On this earth, I will cherish your existence…

My heart wants to pour love as a shower,
So your memories will bloom like a flower,
My emotions within runs like a wild river,
My love for you is forever…

By
Sanji-Paul Arvind

In your departure, my pain unfurls,
A heartbreak, how my tale swirls.
Painted with sadness on the love I laid,
A farewell in colors, you portrayed.

You painted me in color of grey and blue,
For I am a monster, but not entirely true.
The pain of being cast as the villain,
In a story that left my soul chillin'.

Yet deeper lies another pain,
Born from society's judgments, plain.
Various unkind opinions born,
Judging me of things I have not done.

But in this pain, a new beginning takes root,
Strength rising from all the dispute.
For in your leaving, a chance to reclaim,
The colors of self, to self-love, I proclaim.

Let pain be a temporary art,
A chapter of pain, not the whole book of heart.
May healing wash away all conflicts & strife,
And reveal with a newfound life.


By
Sanji-Paul Arvind