It's winter already, I can hear the quivering winds snapping at the trees and hills, resting at wretched windows where lovers watch out the sky change hues and the hopeless hope for a less harsh winter, nipping at our numb noses, chilling bones, carrying along stories from lands of bright but cold sun putting summer to sleep under heaps of snow. The red Robins' choir flies out of nests to find food. I love how the sky is always grey engulfed in its own shadows. A touch of frost to the nature stealing all its pretty colours bathing in pearly white, a world drifting to a slumber feels like eternal holding things still in the dead of the doldrums. I see the winter grieving over the living deads whose hearts been clad of frozen frenzies and deceased dreams. The cold seems unforgiving I hope it hushes down the fiery figments from my longest winter one that has settled to my soul, staining my words, stealing my warmths. I hope I survive the frigid desolation creeping into my heart every winter since he's gone. I hope he never wins not this winter not the ones to come I will forever keep wishing over shooting stars and search for rainbows in his bloodied sky underneath spread the picturesque snowy lanes where my eyes will trace the remnants of our memories scattered in the air like the snowflakes. Damn if I could tell you the rotting roses shy on my bones more than ever in the depths of winter. They failed, they failed to bind strings across our hearts and therefore they never symbolised spring in my garden but rather a winter solstice where a heart shall never want to rise in revolt, a heart shall never try to fight the colds inside. It will just write poetries under clear, cloudless skies and wait winters to pass swiftly, silently without making much of a stir. Love was a pretty little thing sacred, sanctified like a heartbeat shared a heartbeat felt until you made it into a game until you froze my naive heart to death. Since then winters hasn't been any less of a wound that never gets to heal.
Abridged into a tale, six summers old of love and wails that couldn't reach a heart, cold. A saga of sail to the silent sea with ghastly shores and wrecks unfold. He was so handsome living in a mad house with a view of gold underneath lies the trails. When my ship rolled in that vicious night his island of artifice dressed like a young country lad left me drenched in all red. He was the wicked king to his cursed kingdom where even darkness fears to cling. His demons knows no mercy and a stare can kill at once, my heart in his frigid hands fits in so flawlessly as if it is where it was always meant to be. I perhaps wasn't the first to ever burst into the sea only to never return to see what the road "not taken" has to offer me. The water was frozen and the wind so chilled I couldn't discern the desolation creeping in. His touch brought forth a glow, gleaming like glitter, an euphoria of millennium in the dead of winter on the land of ill- starred where star crossed lovers meet only to be parted. The island was a hoax and everything's airy the forests drunk on the convictions of forlorn love of maidens who are sent off, heartless only to live a life of contrition. The days were bright but equally deceiving, magnificence bustling in life strings of trapped souls hopeful of clear days and a good sail back home.
And I will glitter like gold in the afternoon of cold in the outskirts of the town where we chased our last sunset, together and whatever, we are done I drove away in my corvette and you walked down the old street holding her hand. Yeah, I see Her name is Cornelia she's fine, she's wine she's that perfect divine who steals, She's everything you needed, you wanted and I I was all that you despised. Thank God the town no more talks about your pretty bride I heard about your affiance I hope you stick around this time You are good at breaking hearts but you know she's better at keeping men Her name is Cornelia she's fair, she's rare she's that after taste you yearn and I, I am the dreadful dreams you fright I see, I grasp how you affect me even now when you are an abstract in the abyss. I saw you by the Seine oh wait that's from the last time, a figment of my memory damn, I am losing now I see you in all the places of our secret meets you took your Cornelia to, Oh that's too much I have nothing to call mine now. My friends know I love a Roussillon boy and he's a coquet they warned me I abandoned, I am lonely they laugh at me, how stupid. I hated, he chose Cornelia he said she's a lady Yeah I see she's vivid, she's fitted she's that who makes men shed their devotion and I, I am now fancy- free I walk around bars and chase shadows in dark, pretty occupied since I am back in town I lost my heart to. He's handsome, he's tall and I recall in dark blue denims and crisp white shirt how he went down on knees, with roses and ease by the country side and I, I stand there still in time. Oh can you tell me how not to? cause it hurts seeing him love that way again. I bleed in the aftermath of his perfidy I scream, I screech sad, he couldn't hear me break He burnt all the bridges so I couldn't reach him, he took a part of me along and all the others rebelled. Now I hope Cornelia loves him the way I failed, hope she's half as good in writing you poems as I was or are you the one writing break up songs about cause she's perfect and I I make a rather sweet damsel in distress, all the time. and if you ask me how long will it take to come to terms, I will say an eternity cause I, I swear If I ever go back in time I will love you right.
किश्तों में ही सही हम से प्यार कर लो हम भूले बंजारन सी दिल-ए-गुलज़ार कर दो आप एक दफा हमसे मोहब्बत करने कि गुस्ताखी कर लो हम सो मार्तफा आप से वफ़ा कर जाएंगे हमें इश्क के उस गली ले चलो जहां घुम होना किसी हसीन सीतम से कम ना हो, किसी दिन बेखबर पुरानी कुर्ते की सिलवटों में मिलो वक़्त के तराशे उस डेयरी के आधे लिखें अल्फाज़ों में मिलो कोई शायर की शायरी के तराह: किसी बादामी शाम में मिलो हम आपको कवी की कविता के तराह लिख देंगे ख्याली रातों में नसीबों से चुरा के। आप पहली बारिश सा हमें भीगा जाओ हम मिट्टी सा महक उठेंगे खुशबू बेपाक।
I know I have lost people I think they felt suffocated I loved too much but now when I look back it's all worth it I have found my peace I am back to being myself Yes I am still in pain but I am sure one day it will stop hurting It surely will, right? and perhaps I would feel nothing, just empty inside living with the void that blank space will prick the 3 am's will haunt the pillows will be dampened but does that matter? at the end of the day I will walk myself home I will guide my soul through I will cry myself to sleep and I will push myself outta bed with the birds every morning. That last autumn leaf on the tree by my casement will keep me going I know hope is little too heavy for my shoulders carrying all my blunders of past that I plan to shed someday soon around that old rosy cafe I met you first and you took my breath away. Now I feel as if I just got my breath back my soul is just back home from a journey to the unknown, it just had it's worst nightmares and I am comforting it. No, love isn't bad love isn't wrong it's just that love and time still have a thing to do with harmony. They don't match the vibes, like not always. Bad, yeah. I know my poems are sad I know they talk of lost love, of people who chose to leave, of fractured hearts and of living deads but aren't we little more affixed to all that is sad and broken? aren't they beautiful? They know we could see through the cracks yet their smiles fill the rifts with dusted gold like the art of Kintsugi. Their faith is bigger cause they have seen themselves begging God to heal. Love will not stop being a metaphor for hurt till we keep falling for the one we always knew never meant for us but it's just that our hearts never learn lessons they tend to break rules for the unruled. Trust me time doesn't always help we wait and Decembers passed we try and not a thing change to be honest, we don't try enough. Because we want to keep on feeling the pain all that is left to our living is this pain which makes us little alive and once it's gone, it's just emptiness. And what do you do when you can still count all those times your heart burnt in his blasphemies on your finger tips. I tried but with time it was easy to understand People doesn't get replaced the new ones make their space and rebounds were unfair you don't use a person to get over, do you? You want someone to stop by to mend your insides yet you don't, you are afraid to show all the fallen walls of your castle But darling you need to sense that was made of sand and it has to go down the waves were strong You want someone to sit by your side to read your poetries yet you don't you fear what if they read you between the lines and you can't handle another storm. You want someone to kiss you scars yet you don't you don't wish to be judged on stories they tell you are so protective of your saga, you don't want another city of residue. You see them, maybe with someone else I know you shouldn't be hurting it's quite long and draining but you can't help the familiar pangs of pain creeps in The last time you promised in front of the mirror you are too pretty for tears yeah stick to that because he ain't coming back and you will only make a fool of yourself. The night I realized wishes are answered, longings don't prayers are heard, silences aren't and stars are better off far touching them will only burn your fingers That's the night I stopped complaining I stopped begging. Hope will take time to build a warm cozy home inside of you but it will surely do First, you gotta clean out your not- so-ruins of Hampi.
And I will write Something to cheer you up Something to make your mood light. It's a beautiful night. Moon is in sight. Near you I stand We should hold each other's hand. Let's dance with delight, under the moon light. Some magic around swarm with your beauty and my charm. The winds are singing a delightful rhapsody. Such joy they are bringing with full melody. You are a princess and princesses don't cry I don't want see a single tear, don't even try. You are meant to smile, you are meant to laugh. Remember I am there for you, so nothing is tough. If you ask I will do any task I will dance on mars I will pluck the stars I will ride a whale while holding its tail. I will stand upside down. I will become a clown. I can poke anyone Just for your fun. The world maybe vicious But you are so precious. Though I am a charmer. Still I will always protect you like a knight in shining armour.
Take a deep breath. Don't be afraid cos yet it's not death. Just another hard moment. In an okay road, just another risky bend. To tell you none of the roads are ever straight. But it shouldn't abate you from moving on. It's in the nature of things If there's a roar then there's also silence in galore. Put on comfortable shoes. Listen to jazz and blues. Move on with positive demeanor. And make it sure all this while Carry that beautiful curve on your face The wonders that can do, your smile.
most people I called mine are now out of reach, and the least I can do is let them be. I had learned the lesson of letting go too early but never could practice the same art. they say it takes more of you to hold onto the past than to let it go but what do you do, when it's the same baggage that keeps you from drowning? when I say people, I think of sunflowers and ships in the sea, but the world is panting with drought in its veins and a Bermuda triangle collapsing on its only third side. doesn't it remind you of people and their many pretty faces, but expectations hurt and you can't grow immune to that. when I think of people, I hear their songs of love and sighs of farewell, but the world is bleeding in words of poets and wars of times, so much that double plurals in my poems can't suffice to say how much it hurts. most people have built homes midway, for a destination sounds too complete and the least they can do is choose an end they can really see. most people i called mine are so out of reach, maybe it's the distance or the parameter of clocks but the more I look away, the further a horizon slips away so all I can do is jot down these thoughts and make a poem of them, 'cuz even if I'm not a poet these words can still sympathize for me, even if it's for their own sake.