There is much to me than the jovial colors you see,
Often my world falls apart
and all those colors are camouflaged to everything dark.

Drowning in my own thoughts,
I search for my happy places,
but the same air,
now feels so unfamiliar.

In crowd and in solus
this emptiness weighs me down.

Suddenly I am a terrible fit
for all things existing.

Yet for the ones,
who always wanted to know but never cared to listen,
I might never find answers to this emptiness
but don't fill my voids with your speculations
I might rise with or without a hand to hold on
but next time you see me smiling again
please know, that ;
There is much to me than the jovial colors you see.

-

She was lush green in the shades of the dark foliage
and swayed a bit more gleefully to the rhythm of the wind,
The soil admired her from afar
and loved her beyond the limits which parted them,
Her shades transpired from lush green to gleaming gold and then to his rustic brown color.
He embraced her, as she fell
and their love blossomed in midst of autumn.

-

You dwelled in me, coiled in my thoughts.
And I chase your trail within the unuttered words,
To find you embodied in my inked poetry.

-

The one who loved the stars too fondly, once hid in the shrouds of darkness,
So the stars fall, in the quest to seek her.
And we stay to make a wish to the shooting star, not knowing it has one for its own.

-

Gazing at the star studded night sky,
I have fallen for the dark things.
Tactfully hidden are your flaws, embedded with tiny glimmering stars.
I wonder, if the starry pattern is pastiche of the lissome souls you've captured.
Captivate me in your gilted seraglio
and let me liltingly roam in the labyrinthine of your flaws.

-

Within the waning and waxing facets of you,
I have found the most soulful symphonies,
Like in the keyboard of the piano,
When my dark shadows meet your dappled light,
We become the music to which the starts twinkle whole night.

-

It was never the digits in his bank account that mattered to him; but her wishes.
There is a reason behind a father's silence.
That silence has always burried his dreams deep and never let them speak.

-

Dear diary,

I wish to burn you someday ; before those memories choke you.
Because lets not die the same death.

love ,
Sloka .

-

The uncertainity I carry about us
is a kind of hope that keeps me going.

-

Show me your scars,
to see what you have fought for,
as I see beauty not in the benignant veil that covers you
but in the turmoil of vulnerability inside you.

-