One without a reference picture.

No vision to follow;

No idea of where I'll go.

I'm constantly collecting my bits and parts,

Smiles, tears, screams, laughes,

And putting them all together,

In the hope of finding my treasure.

No predictions to be made,

No way to know right from wrong,

Just joining the pieces,

And praying that's where it belongs.

In the end,

What forms isn't an orthodox picture,

But a constellation,

Where moments good and bad are all stars.

So trace the stars,

Connect the lines,

See who I am as a whole,

Only then will you truly know my soul.

If I were a colour,

I wonder who's favourite I'd be,

What vibe is it that I give,

What is it exactly,

That people see in me?

Do I resemble pink,

A soft and kind warmth,

Paired with playful sight,

The eyes that see love tainted clouds,

When looking at the sky.

Do I speak green,

An aura that lingers,

In gardens and fresh breeze;

Cradling in nature's embrace,

In the arms of the trees;

Could I be red,

A pretty rose,

With its thorns kept hidden inside,

For love and life don't bloom without sacrifice;

Or is it blue,

Reflection of serene and calm hues,

One that has both,

The highs of the sky,

And the depths of the sea.

Do I reflect yellow,

The bright shining light,

Like joy bursting out,

To be a part of our lives.

And from day one,

That has been my truth;

But despite all odds,

My heart still rooted only for you;

Since the start,

I knew I'd lose this race,

I knew it would break my heart;

Yet I decided to run,

To feel the pain, to ache for you;

Because you, my dear, reign over my mind;

When you're with me, it freezes the time,

And for you I'd burn,

I'd burn for a lifetime,

Knowing it'll leave a scar;

A testimony of my love for you.

It's like I could never love anyone but you;

Because I only ever wanted it to be you.

The rush in your veins,

The racing of your heart,

Things that people call butterflies;

But the love I found was nothing like that,

He was like a fine wine getting better with age,

While I was like a bird rotting in its cage.

He was full of calmness inside,

While I was like a turbulent storm;

Talking with him was all I needed to feel alright,

And his shoulder felt like home;

When he was with me I desired no more,

Because love is found in comfort;

Not in chaos.

Saumya Thapliyal

I still think of you sometimes,

Even though you're no longer mine;

My heart still beats in your name,

And my eyes can't seem to erase your face.

I still think of you sometimes,

Whenever I look at the pretty skies;

The same hues once adored your cheeks,

Those cheeks now receive someone else's kiss.

I still think of you sometimes,

In places where silence resides,

Each rustle turning my eyes,

As if you're right here, passing by.

I still think of you sometimes,

While writing a poem,

When there comes a line,

To which your name would be the perfect rhyme.

I still think of you sometimes,

I know it crosses some lines;

For me you are a dream,

A forbidden one;

But still,

My heart cries and yearns,

For nobody but you.

I still think of you sometimes,

Even though you're no longer mine;

My heart still beats in your name,

And my eyes can't seem to erase your face.

I still think of you sometimes,

Whenever I look at the pretty skies;

The same hues once adored your cheeks,

Those cheeks now receive someone else's kiss.

I still think of you sometimes,

In places where silence resides,

Each rustle turning my eyes,

As if you're right here, passing by.

I still think of you sometimes,

While writing a poem,

When there comes a line,

To which your name would be the perfect rhyme.

I still think of you sometimes,

I know it crosses some lines;

For me you are a dream,

A forbidden one;

But still,

My heart cries and yearns,

For nobody but you.

Usse paane ki khwahish hai,

Har mumqin cheez chodkar,

Namumqin ke peeche bhaagne ki aadat hai;

Unki aakhon me pyaar dekhne ka khwaab hai,

Uss pyaar ke sehlaab me beh jana hi toh mera kaam hai.

Haqiqat se anjaan,

Yaha mera dil khush kitna hai;

Yeh khwaab hi sahi par haseen kitna hai.

Walking with bouquets,

Of roses, orchids and lilies.

Pretty flowers wrapped delicately,

In fine papers with satin ribbons;

But those girls with bouquets,

Are someone I could never be;

It'd be too much effort,

To put for someone ordinary like me.

So I'll happily accept a bunch,

The fancy packing is extravagant anyway,

And for me,

Just flowers put together carefully would be fine;

But for me,

I don't think they'd gather so many,

So, I'll take not many but a few,

Need not be precious flowers,

Like lilies and orchids,

Even tiny ones would be alright;

Just a few blooms tied together,

Yes that would do.

But maybe that's too much to ask for too,

So I'll take one,

Just one sole flower,

That presents its beauty with pride;

A present not grand but mine.

But if that isn't possible too,

I'll take a leaf,

Green and fine;

I guess,

For someone ordinary like me,

That should suffice.