The rare times I miss friends. :(

No, I wasn't in love with you
But I was close to falling for you
You were brilliant as a friend
But you left me at the end.

Don't know why everything now
Seems so empty, devoid, somehow
No late night text messages
No reassuring calls for ages.

You'd helped me so much in despair
And always promised you'd be there
Then what made you do this
You made me, a dear friend, miss.

I won't ask you to come back for me
But just know, I'll always treasure our friendship for years to be.

Lets see where whims lead to.

I intend to write something, but I don't know what.

Lets see where whims lead to.



Sometimes I wonder if you'll ever be back. I don't know that for sure, I don't even believe in that completely; yet I keep longing and waiting.

Not patiently.

Not even impatiently.

Then there are those moments where I feel we were doomed ever since the start. But these spells don't last long. They are just times when I get hopeless and fed up.

I try substituting others for you. That works for a brief, very brief moment. Then I realize it's impossible. You have always been irreplaceable. The moments I spend with your prospective substitutes are nothing when compared to what I spent with you.

And anyway, I lose all those prospective substitutes in some way or the other, tending to they being fed up of a despicable me. I'm intimidating, they say.

This brings me back to square one. And back to missing you.

And then you show up, armed with a very few words, all of a sudden. As if reminding me you still exist. But somehow, I know I already know you still do. (Yeah, that sentence seems confusing, but you'll get it sometime).

So, even though I try stepping forward on this battleground called life, I am thrown back by the vicissitudes to my earlier position. Why? How? I don't know. Or is it just me?

Yeah, probably, it's just me.






P.S. Even my whims lead back to square one. =/ Vexing.

A House On Fire

My house caught fire and
All that was left
Was a scream unheard
In the flaming ire.

A frayed scarf and
A burnt mantelpiece
Shadowed walls
Blackened photographs

Was all that proved the
House had run up in flames
Tongues of orange
Caused all the ruins.

My house caught fire and
All that was left of my belongings
To claim
Was your memory and a lost desire.

Sight

(Inspired by George Moore)

These eyes have seen the world
Clothed and bare
Emotions at work
Beauty to stare.

These eyes have seen horror
Shocking sagas
Love in all its ardour
Music and all its ragas.

To thousand places they have been
Travelling multitudes
Thousand stories they have seen
From high and low altitudes.

These eyes have stood waiting beneath the boughs
But these eyes have also seen thee, and thou art enough.