He looked up, His face dripping wet, Soothing his raw sorrow, And his sanctimonious ego... There were tears streaming down, He'd held on too tight, And now the delicate thread of love was broken... All that was left, Was a deserted boulevard, Filled with memories and roses, Blacks and reds, Were the hues -- Of his rhythm less blues... For love came slow, But slipped away so fast... All the raindrops, Were like drops of insight, Resolving questions -- Making more stand in the light, A clarity enveloped him, But all he could do, Is hold his side -- And hope she drifted by... Sorry guys, didn't post, was having some issues with family :") Maybe there will be more drops of insight come rain...

I wish to speak my mind, But I cannot break the chains of freedom…

And it glitched out and is lost to the matrix now :'(

Isn’t that just the perfect fairy tale?

His face was awash with all the colours, This March -- His clothes are a sombre white, And memories were awash with the different colors…

Oh you old kook! How you've turned to age... Your winters have changed to pangs of arthritis, Your summers are dreams lost to the clouds, Your monsoons are moist eyes, Your springs though -- Are an epoch to your undying light, though -- Somehow, I feel, this time you want to say goodbye​… For you may be slightly senile, But your gentle heart is still benign, Your nod of approval is a universal sign, And even planet Earth thinks your judgement is divine…

A hard hat here, A gas mask there, Two damaged lenses in the safety glasses, A torn pair of safety soles, A punctured overall… All of this, Yet, the skeleton managed a smile, A selfless benevolence -- It had served it's purpose, And it's duty fulfilled -- It could finally rest… Behind it lay the desolation it had hoped to stop, The fumes, the smoke, the grit, It settled heavily in the atmosphere -- Dampening the spirits and morale of all that was around it… However, life is a tenacious thing, It clung on to hope, even though death pervaded the air, An age old trunk gave birth to a sapling, Slowly nature's vicissitude took hold of this small ribbon, Concealing the disaster -- That was us humans and making the skelton's final resting place -- A heaven it had lived it's life for…

All of us have had moments, When the judge, jury and executioner was none other than ourselves, A trickle of time when we were so hedonistic and selfish That the man in the mirror stood taller Taller and better than us! And it's in these moments, That we learn the most important lessons, Where the mirror is the embodiment of our conscience And our minds -- Are once again recalibrated to behave as a moral compass…

You... Although you're no longer in my memories, You remain -- A testament, As a scar on my body, To the loneliness you subjected me too -- While holding my hand… Note: Might slow down with posts, since my engineering exams have come up, but will regularly post after a week or so again :)

Keep your finger on your lips!  This is the first instruction we disobey and then begins a cascading domino of effrontery! When the snap of a finger and a crack of a whip, Are nothing but commonplace chore! When breaking the rules is no longer a mistake, But an obsession hard to ignore! Recidivism, reprehension and ignominy, Are but greedy vassals, And the trip to and fro from propreity -- Costs one a leg and an arm…

A psychopathic, Psychosomatic, Psychogenic disorder, A good doctor? Or an even better killer? A sociopath or a timid simple scientist? Ah what does he even know? His body goes comatose every time the other is awoken, His mind is the pupeteer in this grand old scheme Pulling the strings and tying the knots The riddle to which he'll unravel -- Only when the going gets tough  Or there passes a shudder -- A shudder in the cold dead killer....

Over time Dissembling one's feeling Beguiles one to believe That the disquiet in the soul Is a gentle breeze through a sunny meadow Whereas, in truth, it is a storm -- A storm waiting to tear us whole...

I no longer have the courage to look at the stars, In fear that the memories we made -- May blind me like the mid-day sun...

The lingering scent! I wish to be complely drowned in it, I've already been entranced, It's proclivity already blossoming in the cracks of my stone woven heart, The time you brushed by, It ignited a fierce passion so intense -- It threatens to drown out the voice of my ethos! Please! A simple word! A simple acknowledgement! I desire but a glance of those deep and mystic eyes! Reveal to me the secret that lies with your soul! You've let me have a scent of the true soul that rests within! Is it replete with a whole whirlpool of emotions? Or is a calm primordial sea like those on the virgin untouched planets? I wish to say something, But my whimsical mind tends to digress…   And now the moment has passed and I'll long for another simple glance…

This is not poetry or a prose, It's just what you interpret it to be: The winds blew away the Autumn leaves, Constantly blowing through the eaves, And there she walks! An angel not knowing what, What she's capable of! You are capable of lighting a candle in a rainstorm, Blazing an inferno on top of water, Reaching a crescendo that drowns thunder to a gentle rumbling! But you say that you're not capable any of this, While the whole world views you -- Simply awestruck, You're like a maverick that is redefining my method of enjoyment, An elixir capable of palliation as well as curing, An unspoken but eternally present human bean, A bean capable of rewriting my karma, And salvaging what's left of my inner writer…