Please don't close the book ...
I want you to read me once more ...

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At times, I wonder
Are we characters in a fiction?
Or fictional characters in a real world ...
Playing our parts
At times in tune and at times off script
And can we ever, as creations, escape our very creator?

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I have just closed my eyes
Haven't stopped breathing yet ...
I have just closed my notebook
Haven't stopped writing yet ...

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I tried to find you ...
But it was me, who was lost ...

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How do I tame the thorns,
growing inside my very skin
piercing out of my rib cage,
stabbing my already wounded heart; every single time I turn upto you,
not realising, you are the rose that demands not
water but blood ...
And that nightingale, which sang for me once; already dead trying to quench your very thirst ...

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I use blue ink
to fill blank pages of my barren notebook ...
But my wild imagination bleeds
And turns it into a colourful canvas ...

#Happy Holi

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In the meaningless
I am trying to search for meaning ...
In the long silence
I am trying to search for reason ...
In the void
I am trying to look for substance ...
Don't know what I am upto ?
Or what I am actually searching for
Coz am looking for faith in the faithless Judas ...

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Life in black & white at times feels better than life in colour...

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She decided to be the fragrance ...
I was happy being the crushed petals ...

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#Certain things can't be said loudly ...

#That doesn't mean people don't get it usually ...

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