if tomorrow comes...

If tomorrow was not the reason,

I would have died a long back in present.

I know so, I am sure.

It’s been since I have been searching for you.

Ever since, on each tomorrow.

irony...

oh what is life, if not irony.
i die for it and it dies out on me.

Close me in

Close me in.
Let me inherit your warm skin, your odor and soft texture.
How else will I remember you when I will be left only with life, to live upon?
Won’t you yearn for this pungent love, of moments in dark winters?
Let me inherit this window, this room, this city,
this enclosed space, this sunshine on your morning body, every this and every that.
Close me in; let me be here for a million ages more.

Love is not love

Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or Bends with the remover to remove.
O, no! It is an ever-fixed mark,
That looks on tempests and is never shaken.
It is the star to every wandering bark,
whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.

- William Shakespeare

this is for you

This is for you.
If you ever read this, come across this...
It’s been years I have not seen you, felt your warm smile or heard you calling my name.

What would you have become; who are you now?
And what makes you live?

Do you feel your heart disappear and lose its way back to our years?
And does your sleep ever dream or is it the dreams that pretends you have slept?

Does your hand remember the melting sun, during winter when I put holding them in my pocket while we pretend to talk our heart kept circulating across the palm and fingers of our hands?

How while listening to old songs together on your walk-man we had hugged and felt the warmth of your skin made the songs unheard.

I have lived upon innumerable dreams I thought about us.
Like dejavu; they seem real as if I had already lived with you million & million times over and over again; they have now become real.
It’s been since then when you left me, I never left you.

Hold

Hold,

a second,

a heart beat,

a breath.

It contain the years that I have spent around you.

Let me inhale standing closest to you,

Your warm breath that had sustained the remembrance of past.

Hold me in your supple arms.

To find those moments hidden, lying in wait around your breasts.

That would relent me from the horrors I am left with.

Hold me inside, within the creases of your scapes, to hear the heart cry.

To let all the nostalgic summers and winters penetrate, through.

Let live again the life we had and due.

For a second,

a heartbeat,

a breath you hold.

strange, beautiful woman

You,
my strange,
beautiful woman.
Theres a world,
opposite to your cubical.
Do you sense an absence,
felt a warm embrace,
across the partition.
Linear and symmetrical,
verticals and horizontals,
the walls from here,
reaches out to you.
You, the eye-masked,
hidden, sacred island.
You, my strange,
beautiful woman.