Supermoon

Tonight I will sleep with the thought
that the moon hung low,
swell enough to illuminate
the dimmed sidewalk
we were strolling through;
a busy street
of a sunday eve,
laughing as we lost track.
Strangers brush past us—
oblivious of the blossom
enveloped within
the cocoon of our entwined hands.

And for a single moment
you allowed me to drink in the moonlight—
with your eyes
sharing the same glow as I,
which was nothing I’d ever seen before;
nothing compared to what I had.

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No Longer Found

No thing
lasts a hundred,
a million, gazillion,
years of future,

even the tallest
of mountains, and
the deepest of
oceans, and
lovers they thought
eternally bound,

all but crumbles
into sad
oblivion,
’til even that
can no longer
be found.

Work of Art

Dearie,
I may be no artist
But let me draw you
With my own
Stroke of words
And color you
With the same passion
Running through my veins
Up unto my heart

In that way
I’d immortalise you
And the memories we’d never make
And keep the artwork
In my own
Secluded gallery
While you pass your years away
Living the life you always wanted
Living the life as if I’d never existed.

Ordinary Universe

​Her mind is
Nothing but a wonderful blessing
Always yearning
Always growing

And here I am
But a blunt feather
Blown away by her endless wind
I float along the hush of her whisper
Enchanted
Of how grand of an angel she is
Eternally too big
And too much
To fit in
Our ordinary universe.

Scribbles in Sheets

​Scribbles in sheets-

Hues differ from another-

Faces of their kind

Vulnerably carved.

Scribbles in sheets-

Covered in dust, may be,

Rather dull of nostalgia

To no degree.

Scribbles in sheets-

Apart from flesh and blood-

Are what keeps us all

Human.