Say it, the way it is,
So… it’s not the way,
It has to be.
“Why” – she questioned,
Why is it not the way, it has to be..?
Like a free waterfall, You are, my sweetheart. I am a stone merely on your way..you’re going to go anyways…
Even if I will try, many ways,
you’ll go anyways.
Either you will think of the world or world will make you think of Me.
Poured Romance will melt like ice and will float on water… I will cry in each piece…
Even if I will, the pieces won’t be One…I will try and I will cry…
But Nothing will be one.
Everything is Physical, Everything logical… But not my Love… It’s pure and illogical.
It breaths in hearts and pumps in vein… It goes everywhere but not in Brain,
But not in the brain…
You have logic, I don’t have…you have love, I don’t have… Even if you’re here… I feel the fear.
Of losing you, it haunts like …
I don’t know… Why this??…
Why this?? …
Let’s find our ways… Individual and independent,
let’s meet somewhere.
Where Our souls going to meet…
In the paradise! I think.
Beauty would sustain and Romance will flow.
Love of two, you came to life,
Love of almighty and love of hopes,
One love of two individuals, you are.
Your hearts is love,
you’re the love of your heart.
This world loves you,
with blessings, care
and amenities it has.
The trees, the roads,
your little room, loves you.
The friends, the relatives,
the strangers, loves you.
The cold winds from mountains,
travels to you,
everyday, every second,
to love you.
The icebergs melt itself,
to be a river, a lake or a sea,
to travel you,
they love you.
They say to you, nothing,
they ask you, for nothing,
they just love you,
with the each passing time,
they make you feel,
alive and fortunate,
they want to say,
in the most romantic way,
You need not to worry,
Few drops of unattended thoughts,
travel all the way from the clouds of imaginations,
not entertaining, but pertaining to something within,
falls on dry hearts.
It’s an amalgamation of a life,
creating a covered, preserved and promising way of dealing,
with pain and strains of lives.
It regenerates lives,
boosting energies of dead cells,
and the tradition of sorrows and happiness.
It opens up the eyes, closed with
died thoughts of the unreal world.
It feels, within a life, the chord of life
and the cure to undied deaths.
Let it wash,
the old memories,
the hurts and pain,
to blossom again,
in the rain of love.
A me in me,
let it soak,
the mud again,
make me alive,
O’, rain of love.
She dies, to grope the time,
for her beauty and infatuated life.
She wants back, her little lilies,
Petrichor, her small legs, and the buzzing noises,
of flies and butterflies, the chirping birds,
and the howling lives.
she sits on her chair, for a couple of hours,
an old flesh, with dusky clothes,
a state of seclusion, rolling tears,
rubbing her eyes, being oblivion,
and never realized this sonderous life.
This epiphany of life, glimpses of past,
fills her heart, with laugh and regrets,
the lost age and squandered life.