And nothing could heal the pain of loss.

And one moment could play on forever in your head,until it starts to seem like a parody.
You want to try and make it stop,but part of you want to hold on to the tragedy of it all..because what if..what if you forget it all ? Wouldn't that be the worst thing you could do to a person?
Place upon them,the curse of absolute oblivion.
They say it would hurt a little less if you tried to let go.Have they ever encountered the pain of  waking up to the news of the same death everyday..for sleep is the only saving grace,that draws curtains upon the pain.
Will they ever know how it feels like..to want to pull the sky upon yourself and never wake up?
Insane,probably,they'd say.
But what could they have known about the pain of losing.How could they have known..the angst of not having been able to save a life.
And little would they ever imagine,the emptiness that plagues your abyss of a stomach because of that last,unsaid goodbye.
So,you choose to turn your anger inwards,replaying the events of that day,over and over in your mind,till the silent suffering puts you to sleep.Depression,indeed,is anger gone unexpressed.

Hope is a sunny nook.

Shards of amber break through,
through the slits in the window blinds.
Orange roses in full bloom,outside
are freed from their frosty times.
Covers that drape the bed,too cold
are soon to be  drenched in brightness.
The mourning sky,turns into a bride,
shining face,adorned in a golden glow.
 The world is pregnant with joy,
For even the little bird on the wire
has lived to see this light.

Sun Dried Saturdays

I suckle onto the warm breeze and long to weave through the passing clouds.
Joy fills the spaces between my teeth,sun dried and tangy as a tomato.
Invisible Guitar chords are being strummed around the general theme of things.
Time seemed so frugal,it could be tread upon on tiptoes,
Spanning the entire eternity the room held till my soles would sore.
Life seemed to tilt gently,it's tangents and gradients poised towards me,
Close enough to feel the shape of my face.
Lazy thoughts and unspoken ideas lay spaced out,soaking up on sunshine.
This is as good as it gets,I suppose.But oh! The Human Mind.Hope ceases to dwindle away,

One.

The taste of the salt on your skin,
still lingers on my lips.
Your subtle toe curling,
is a burning bright memory.
The warmth of thy supple palm melting into mine,
turns distances to dust.
We put together two worlds and utter two words,
to become but one.

Bouts Of Curiousity.

I walked into an unknown realm,as my bare feet were caressed by the dirt.
Looking up,I noticed a grey morning sky,trying hard to hold on to the clouds that were subtly slipping away.
A couple of birds circled the top of a skyscraper,religiously.
Having found a nook beneath the boughs of a sprawling Gulmohar,I watched the blossoms light up like orange flames,when sunlight danced around them,before engulfing them in sheer brightness.
A world so full of life,it almost frightened me.
Alone I stood,though.Towering over the desolate day.
All at once,I snapped out of my daydream to realise I was in classroom and through the latticed window,carved out in the wall,I saw a pair of marble green eyes peeping in.They belonged to a little head with hair tied into pigtails,that bobbed up and down in inquisition,the same way mine had when I tried to look through a laticed window into another classroom,years ago..fascinated by what senior classes held in them.
 I have finally begun to discover and relish a hint of an answer.
They were perhaps, walls that contained the intricacy of dreams.

Cups Of Chai.

Betwixt You and I,
Rest two cups of cold chai,
And the Sun,
turning scarlet as it blushes and hides behind the houses.
Wispy hair o' mine that wavers around like sea weed,
And you don't brush it away,
Let it stray unto your face,
A shore welcoming a wave.
The crevices of concrete,
merge beneath our feet,
We sit there...obscure of the sickly warmth of stone,
and the humdrum of motion benath us.
Hearts that hold Penchants for one another,
 The Quiet Betwixt us,The sweet Melancholy..
An uplifting Crescendo.

Through Tinted Windows On Hazy Afternoons.

Melancholy could be subtle too,It isn't always an extremity..a tragedy.A silent storm,in itself.
Melancholy could be..
Nail Paint chipping away.
Reminiscing Phone Conversations.
The Last Day Of Summer.
An unopened Box of Cherries on the tabletop.
The Silence that looms over locked doors.
Reassurances about the scheme of things.
Erratic midnight rain.
A neglected room.
Unspoken words left to be felt.
A lonely child.