Her eyes look like unheard stories and unfinished epilogues of a novel never written but whose script lives rent free at the back of the mind, she's a frozen dew softly melting against my dry skin during winters, she's a slight echo of the whisper I shout to the cosmos; she stays within me as an unhealed void, woe betide seasons if they test me, for they must know I won't fall, nor would she. When flowers bloom at the barren fields amongst hopeless soil, When the letters you've written with your heart a decade ago to your older self, reaches to you: the soul knows the impossible becomes possible. She smells like a longing, mostly unattainable, a vision, a light so far, within my sight, but not within my touch.
Tw: fiction Some sentences might have been inked under the influence of some provocative songs.
"And now that I'm without your kisses I'll be needing stitches" - Stitches, Shawn Mendes
A choking metaphor finds a way To seep between her bones to enter Her poems once in a while, Here and there, ringing a cataclysm, Leaving cathartic musings, Stained time loops And nihilistic reverberation, It all starts with a flicker, a matchstick, Contributing a conflagration to a Larger part of her hands and mind, The fire ain't enough to warm her Frozen breaths, or powerful enough To plant penelopes in her Cracked heart; Clutching onto words Reeking of aestheticism, echoing soft past, She's a crossover of September sonnet And a jinxed June She's searching for a hand That'd spell back f o r e v e r on her palm, But all she can do is put a tired smile, Because when she closes her eyes, All she sees is that face and feel the hand On hers, For whom she once wrote scores of love poems, He was a shy wallflower, and she, a chirpy leucanthemum, She has a kinship with sunflowers and heathers, Whilst she wanders with daffodils, When they ask her about her home, She blows away dandelions petals, Lately she is wearing a pinafore And flared blue jeans, Working day and night in rural fields, Occasionally during a sunset, She grasps for a moment To convert it into a gasping haiku; Tendering the sheep, shearing the yarn, To stitch tilted smiles on her sleeves, Which has been to wars uncountable With herself and the world and her love; Her skin is a beautiful artwork Of battlefields she has been part of; As a souvenir of her endurance Her forehead is creased with waves, A faithful smile always lingering on Her pretty lips, she hopes to dust kindness On surfaces her feet trudge upon, Her soul is a triptych depicting Conflicting perception about love, Family and identity, Trickling drops of rain takes shape of a rainbow In the bleeding sky, Camouflaged with courage and hope, Falling over her face as tears She is too afraid to shed, A constant conflict between saying and Caring too much– keeps her on her toes, When I catch a glance of her heart, I wonder whether he'd have fallen in love h a r d e r with her if he'd met her before me Combustible heartbeats of ours Mush into a dough of silence My words lie often only upon the paper For my tongue can utter Only what my mind considers true I wish for an eternity Drenched in seclusion I wish upon a shooting star To fade away like her, far I have a loose grip But good instincts I'm searching for a moment Only mine to call, Mine to own, It's all only a thought, until the metaphors Overpowers my worth and existence, I'm driving the car, To get my driver's license, Only to wake up From this dreamy reality.
In the veins, running through my soul, Carries the attar of love, Sprayed from thy heart. My spirit is veiled in thy musk, See beloved, what your love has done to me!
With roses and lillies, I would welcome you, scatter some on your body and Some in thy path, Heap them together, Don't trample over, For these are my lovelets Carrying to you all my hearts. See beloved, what your love has done to me!
Over these six years, I have found in you heaven. Like hoor, i would sing all songs And write for you love poems. Though i am no hoor, but inside me love of thousands hoors reside, See beloved, what your love has done to me!
On the foothills of the Zabarwan, I would call you high and high, If you forget my name. Would compose gazals, sharing your name. Someday if you travel by, witness my wretchedness See beloved, what your love has done to me!
In the crystal clear waters of Aharbal, I see your face as if some mirror. The water tides take you too far and wide, I jump to behold you tight. The waters bring me safe to the shore, seeing the affinity in between. Saddened to break this unity. See beloved, what your love has done to me!
On the pages of Shakespeare's sonnets, I read, "Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?" Beloved you are all summer and spring to me, Bringing me laughter and pink shades to cheeks. My iris buds blooms on seeing your sight, And i forget everything, when you on my side. See beloved, what your love has done to me!
Years ago and the years going, I have tied strings on pillars of Holy durgahs, Recited your name on the beads of rosary, To every deed, seek you in reward. In my prayers, you are the first and last desire. See beloved, what your love has done to me!