Someone was there in my playlist!
Embedded in my wires of feelings;
Imbued with a sense of serenity;
Immersed into my neglected of tears.

Someone is there in my playlist!
Tells me the narratives of painful pasts.
Reciprocates equally with affection.
Promises with the utmost sincerity.

Someone will be there in my playlist!
Will be empathetic to my wreckages.
Will be vigilant to my behaviors!
Will be the reservoir of my poetry.

-

not asking
for anything, rather offering.

-

Ah! Mistakes of yours and mine!
Done everything and dusted everything!
But remained something for inner revolt.
Hearts will jolt with pointed faults.

Bang! The glass broke down on floor!
What! But nothing changed between us!
Agitated nerves set the blood on fire
With palpitations and expectations.

How to know it's a mistake!
I am baffled and you are troubled!
Acceptance is the most complicated thing,
But some argue about and reframe them.

-

Here's a cup of tea for two,
Brewing, brimming, blinking.
A cup to be caught by you,
With no hesitation, no thinking.

Sights dazzle with the blushes.
Knuckles break in nervousness.
Faces glow and hide in lushes.
Voices collide in amorousness.

Swallowing the planned formalities,
Chewing the etiquettes in trend,
Convey the reality of mentalities.
Let's sip the tea and not to fend.

-

While arranging my bookshelf
A bundle of postcards fall down,
And my entire day sinks or
I myself find myself drowned into them.

“I love you. Distance doesn't matter.”
“Focus in your research work. I'm with you.”
“Miss you very much. Waiting for your hug.”
Many such express her intense love for six months.

“Listen na! Do we really understand each other?”
“I don't think it's been working between us.”
“Nothing to hide! I'm in love with someone.”
New Year! New Beginning! Memories!
***
{I wrote to her all my feelings as well till her last postcard shut the door for me. I don't know why I can't get rid of those postcards.}

-

Yes, I do have some close friends
Who never complain and doubt!
Rains that kiss the bareness of the earth;
Books that make me fall like Alice
Into the never ending hole of thoughts;
Poetry that keeps me calm and numb.

Some close distant friends, I have.
The horizon that shows me illusion;
The stars that fascinate me in solitude;
The currents that make me impetuous.
I do feel their calling when dejected
With open arms to embrace me.

-

With a modicum of joy of missing out
I dare to relish my life fettered in-
The narratives of numerous people
Who are too great to be mentioned.

I feel with my each pound of heart
That there is a leftover me, befooled!
But you know the joy of getting out
Of misunderstanding and fake emotionality.

Caught in the dichotomic situations
True passion and false white-collar Sim.
I do believe I can creat a tremor in poetry
Even at the cost of missing out of decorum.

-

And everything I wanted to convey her
Left unattended in that voicemail:
My ardent desires to be with her;
Some cherished memories at the cafeteria;
Some plans made for our future;
Some verses dedicated to her.

O that she could once listened to it!
Her pending reply makes me perturbed!
I brooded day and night but nothing...
Time stitches the wounds for healing
Ah! In my case, Time has betrayed me!
I waited, I wait but shall I wait for her call?

-

Yes, look at there, a garbage van!
Carrying your filthy habits and thoughts
Scattered in the form of your wastes.
Forsaken! Rotten! Half-eaten! Trodden!

It's a van that bears your selfishness.
More educated cities, unbearable dirties!
The van asks: Am I a mother who takes
Away your broken and unhygienic things?

The people in dishevelled rags drive these vans
To keep healthy the people under the fans.
Blow horn! Throw out your things torn!
Blow horn! Throw out your things torn!

-

Who does want to have the blue ticks?
Are those tickets credulous to all?
Are all those without those ticks fake?
The blue ticks smells sweat and blood.

-