As sexy as the vocable voluptuous sounds,

Doesn’t change the fact that you are round,

Some might have avoided saying plump;

Out of civility or afraid of being frowned,

Anyway, you do have on yourself few extra pounds.

 

Hoarding old clothes in the corners of the closet,

Hoping one day it would fit again;

And with pride you will show off and cosset,

How you wish reality it becomes!

And not just remains your crotchet.

 

Decking up for a social affair is a tedious hunt,

A frantic search for the perfect outfit;

While muttering a woeful grunt,

Scathing, nasty, and candidly blunt,

Trials and tribulations are constant.

 

Boycotting junk food is a resolution made every other day,

And yet, the temptation doesn’t let you be at bay,

The scrummy snack unconsciously lets your resolve astray,

And there again, your anatomy is betrayed.

 

Plans and schedules are made for regular exercising,

Relentlessly in your mind the same, memorizing,

Few days of unfaltering, unflinching physical uprising,

Rest of it, procrastinated leaving you immobilizing.

 

In this colossal body you feel you are impounded,

But you won’t give up and will be unbounded,

Because as sexy as the vocable voluptuous sounds,

Doesn’t change the fact that you are round.

 

I can write about the fallen angels and the rise of diabolical demons,

Also, the species that fall in-between; the cryptic humans.
 

I can write about the inner peace and the superficial cacophony,

Also, the myriad universal symphony.
 

I can write about the clear sky and the tempestuous sea,

Also, the nature’s compelling artistry.
 

I can write about that first secretive glance and the last kiss saying goodbye,

Also, the immense affection it brings along thereby.
 

I can write about the long lost love and the incipient romance,

Also, the state when one is in a lovesick trance.
 

I can write about the shallow hearts and the profound heartbreak,

Also, about all the complexities our heart invariably takes.
 

I can write about the love accepted and the agonizing love unrequited,

Also, the silly dopamine responsible for the emotions incited.
 

I can write about the morning glory and the evening primroses,

Also, about their charm in poems and proses.
 

I can write about the blossoming youth and the perishing senility,

Also, the life’s perpetual fragility.
 

What I fail to write is about your mere pretence and my eternally generous love,

Words fall short for a masquerader and a mourning dove.

He said, “It’s my way or highway,”

After cogitating, she chose the latter,

Embracing to stray rather than to stay,

Much to his surprise;

Letting him collect the pieces now scattered.

Under the luminous crescent moon,
Her heart was racing, as he made her swoon.
 

Being next to him was complete surrealism,
Along with the mystical music of psithurism.
 

When they both were standing at a distance,
Their silhouettes were in blissful coexistence.
 

Every time she managed to steal a look,
His intense, gleaming eyes kept her hooked.
 

That beautifully magical, kindling night,
Was a perfect addition to her basorexic delight.
 

Anticipating, hesitating, finally…

Their interspaced lips met,
This smoldering kiss was just an onset.
 

The sweetest encounter left her overwhelmingly nonplussed,
That irresistible moment was pure stardust.

It was you. It was me.

It was love.
 

It was you. It was me.

It was a lie.
 

It is you. It is me.

It is a goodbye.

What are you!
Every time something new.
 

A mystery full of contradictions,
A character straight out of fiction.
 

An uncomplaining discreet listener,
Yet a tenacious inquisitor.
 

A notoriously insane gabbler,
Yet occasionally a sane adviser.
 

An absolute stupid conversationalist,
Yet often an amusing mentalist.
 

A person full of emotions,
Yet with rational solutions.
 

A simple and delightful friend,
Yet at times weird to comprehend.
 

A soul which is utter close mentally,
Yet is almost distant physically.
 

And hence, I always do wonder…
What really are you!
Every time just something new.

She was in love with words,

He was in love with his dreams,

Her world was in her books,

His world, in that distant gleam.
 

She loved the serene library,

As she read sans being ceased,

He loved the quietness of the library,

As he dreamt there in peace.
 

Books were her best friends,

That transported her to a wonderland,

Dreams helped him transcend,

Beyond and above this land.
 

She believed in the perfect romance,

That quintessential romantic man!

He believed in a happy happenstance,

Stumbling into his girl unplanned.
 

Today, engrossed browsing in the library,

They dashed and bumped into each other,

Apologies were exchanged; he acted with chivalry,

Freezing right there, couldn’t move any further.
 

Their eyes finally met,

Didn’t take much time to reckon,

With a smile almost set,

To identify that intense feeling of KOI NO YOKAN.

The allure of the cryptic darkness,

Kindles the uncanny wakeful madness.

The calling of the caliginous serenity,

Is the beautiful source for mental clarity.

The endlessly clear and twinkling sky,

Sparks the crazy indulgence of wry.

The constant hoots of the Parliament of owls,

Compliments the wise, mystical night prowls.

The luminosity of day doesn’t seem to excite,

We, insomniacs are the lovers of the night.

Beautiful you were,

Beautiful you are,

Beautiful forever will be,

Thinking otherwise, would be downright blasphemy,

No matter how others might see,
 

Indulge in your eccentric rhapsody,

Let the rest pander in the envious parody,

You are not just defined by your anatomy,

Your idiosyncrasies are the result for such cosmic alchemy,

Uncover the joys of your anomaly,
 

While others rot in their mental incapacity,

Your persona has untold dimensionality,

Embrace what you are during this sojourn of mortality,

Focus on what you do, to mark your immortality,

You are a unique force in this colossus realm of travesty.

It was strange being a stranger to you,

Wish I had at least noticed the cue!

We had a history,

Now vanished like a mystery.
 

The stories that we shared,

Of love, laughter, and despair,

Even if, the annihilation was preordained…

Nothing could have had me prepared,

For the bond once we had, is now beyond repair.
 

What I thought was strong, was nothing but fragile,

The memories, the insane histrionics linger on…

Stuck in one corner of the brain’s myriad files,

Letting one visit time and again to the wistful memory aisle,

Because getting back to reality isn’t going to be agile.
 

This thing which was beautiful once,

Suddenly modified into something jarringly ugly…

All turned into a chaotic dance,

Nothing could salvage the ties, not even love, honesty, prudence

When it came to you and me, I was conspicuously a dunce,
 

Started off as strangers,

Ended as being strangers again…

Uncertain, of what had been the game changer,

Or would have endeavored to save it from the impending danger,

And rescued the now incapacitated heart like a ranger.
 

We had a history,

Now vanished like a mystery,

It was strange being a stranger to you,

Wish I had at least noticed the cue!