I - Poetry

'If you no longer feel like, just stop change.'

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 I am whatever you want me to be.

I am a melody and a tragedy.

I am  safety and the calamity.

I am me. I am us.

I am one with the poetic universe.

Metaphor For Misfortune

 

No tale. No fable. No myth. No verse.

It's her adversities in calligraphy- long dried.

It's her as chrysalis - trapped in frozen time.

It's her in a cocoon- wrapped in threads of finger line

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Pity and Cruelty

Can you hear the furious beating of that pump?

Can you see the teeth eating at those veins?

Can you feel the vines of fear rooted deep?

Can you taste the bitterness of those memories?

It's not some disease but it's sick,

Its neither a beauty nor a tragedy

It's my heart and its sympathy.

It's my love and your pity.

I hear the roaring in your heart.

I see the red of your blood.

I feel the trembling in your hands.

I taste the sweetness of it all.

It's not an illusion but its tricks.

It's neither romance nor symphony.

It's my hate and its beauty.

It's your love and my cruelty.

 

An Echo

 

I apologize if my poetry echoes of the
 heartaches, of long walks, and terrible dates.

I apologize if my muse imitates of the

 classics, of love and one long dead.

Just know that it's not me but my heart,

 not my mind but my soul,

Writing a coda to an incomplete song,

 just-

behold.

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Inadequate Fantasy

 I remember yesterday but not

 the day before that,

the beginning is all fuzzy from start,

I suffer from deja vu like a piercing dart,

but what I remember is your shadow art, the one 

with a unique luminance of a star.

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Fleeting Realities

 and when the stars appear,
It's all hazy and I am floating.

scattered smiles.misty eyes.

warm hands. amused glance.

and when the sun rises,

It's all shiny but I feel dull.

(Why is it always silence between us?)

and I weave poetry to escape all.

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Threaded Words

 

The way your fingers caress
my spine, my bind,
It feels like an ancient touch
of the believer.
The way you smell me and sigh,
I feel drenched in petrichor.
The way you flip through me
takes me on a journey to antiquities.
The way you speak about me
gives me an aesthetic vibe.
You make me feel like a classic
with your curiosity, my bibliophile.

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