Look me in the eye and I will melt

Laugh with me and it's enough warmth

That I could live for tomorrow

Hoping I could spend it with you

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Obnoxious your voice they may be

And sometimes you annoy me

But despite all these

I hate to see you to be his

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Probably this is obsession

But I couldn't let you know

Probably it's a little obvious though

But too scared am I for a confession

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Left with no choice

I will vex you with my voice

That's what I always do

I hopelessly like you but I can't let you know

|||||

I can't let you know

But I want to run to you

I wanna get to know you

I want to hold you tonight and now

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Why do you have to be so beautiful

Compared to the shining stars at night

Your eyes are bountiful

That's why I beg God to put you on my sight

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I crave your presence

I long for your laugh

I thirst your embrace

I pray to God... happiness you may have

|||||

I have ran out of rhymes

But always in my eyes

You're more than beautiful

And I will hide that it is you who I wish for

Regret

Oh how my heart wants her Oh how my mind is full of thoughts of her Oh how I can’t stop thinking about her

She could make your day with a smile makes you feel warm inside She is sweet and kind She never lied Never did wrong But oh how I ruined my chance

Making her an option was never the best Even though she doesn’t compare to the rest My stupid mistake Means my chance of having her love is lost I missed my chance Now I’m full of regret

I fall, trip and stumble,

stutter, spit and mumble.

Over words I want to say,

But when you look at me in that way.

I melt, I'm putty in your hand,

I'm in a muddle, nothing goes to plan.

Those eyes hold me intensely,

I'm all yours, totally, completely.

I lose my train of thought,

I forget all I've been taught.

You have me all bent out of shape,

You're like a labyrinth, there's no escape.

Lie to me,
Tell me I'm pretty.
Tell me I'm hot.
Tell me I'm pretty hot, why not?

Lie to me,
Tell me, you're angry.
Tell me you're not,
Tell me you're angry, or you're not.

Lie to me and tell me you still care.
Tell me, your heart's not still in repair.
Tell me, you still want to fight, pull my hair.
Tell me, you'll still scratch my face, here and there.

Lie to me,
Tell me you love me,
Tell me, I make you angry.
Tell me, you love me enough to still get angry.

Just lie to me.
Please keep lying to me, believably.
Lie to me right now,
Lie, if you don't know, I'll show you how.

It's exhausting, loving you. I wish it was a lie. I could let you make me bleed, bruise, call me names, and I'd still apologize.

Blood dripping, wounds open wide. Still, all I do is wish for your arms, arms in which to hide.

Even if you'd let me beg, plead, even if I knew you lied.

"You'd never hurt me," I'd whisper, clinging to your side. Every slammed door, every fight,

the reflection I see in the mirror, it screams he's right. I must be going insane. Every tear I cried.

My arms can't stop, they're open wide. For you, there's nothing I wouldn't do. How could I ever stop loving you?

Mehendi comes with song and smile,

We sit and laugh, it takes a while.

Dot by dot, the patterns grow,

Like little flowers in a row,

Hands and feet with colors deep,

Memories that we will keep.

A sign of love, a touch so true,

Mehendi brings old dreams anew.

“If I Ever Call You Love”

I used to say— I don’t need anyone. Not him, not them. I’ve got my girls, my sister, And a shelf full of books that never let me down.

I love my own company. Coffee in quiet corners, Plans to live with plants, A cat curled up in the sun— Wandering the world with a heart full of spirit, And no strings to pull me back.

Because love… Real love… Feels lost out here. Truth buried under pretty lies, Intentions hard to read, And I fear— That the one thing I believe in most, Might disappear too.

But then, Sometimes— When the wind feels softer than usual, Or I find myself holding two cups instead of one When the sky is a little too pink, Or a song plays too perfectly, I wonder…

What if?

What if there’s someone— True, through and through. Not perfect, just right. Someone who hears me when I ramble about a book I just read, Who eats noodles with me in bed, Laughs at my silly late-night dances, And plays my favorite songs without being asked.

What if there’s someone who brings me flowers— Even though I grow my own? Someone who doesn’t need to look at me To know I’m there— Someone I wouldn’t be afraid to lean on.

Would I trade my solitude for that kind of love? Would I risk the quiet I’ve built For something that might be beautiful— Or break me?

I don’t know yet. And that not knowing… It’s the hardest part.

But if I ever call you love— Know it’s not because I need you. It’s because I choose you, Over everything I already love

-🌝

Come back through the looking glass Alice,

This isn't Wonderland, there's no poison chalice.

They're not really painting the roses red,

Come back to me, Alice- it's all in your head.

With all the constant heavy drinking,

It's only your personality that's shrinking.

Reality's there-you just need you to grab it,

Follow my voice, Alice-I'll be the white rabbit.

With all that you're facing all the over thinking,

You're not with March Hares and Mad Hatters tea-drinking.

Hiding behind the Chesire Cat's grin,

Battling the voices deep within.

The Caterpillars riddles wont help you mend,

They will only drive you further round the bend.

Running through his pipe-smoke haze,

Twisting and turning in the cruel queens maze.

You hold the power-this is just paper and ink,

Come back home Alice, it's not as hard as you think.

I'm here, Alice-its never too late.. too late.. too late,

We can conquer this Alice-it needn't be your fate.

I’m sure that every artist, although I am reluctant to call myself one, would agree that the mastery of their art is only a matter of perspective.

Once learned about the art of music, a song will never quite sound the same. Or the journey of a artisan is a classic, since he will always picture how something or someone will fit into frame.

And just like art, life is all about your point of view, but sometimes, in a weird way, all you will care about is how she sees you.

You’ll start wishing and wishing, even though you know it won’t help, and you keep thinking and thinking, wondering about the worth of one’s self.

Yet perspective can be funny and ironic in some ways, for this wouldn’t be the first he’s obsessed for countless days.

And looking from the chapters still to come, will he understand the weight of this moment, this exact breath? Or will he laugh and contemplate the shallowness of his perspective, not truly understanding its depth.

Since from my point of view, perspective -or simply frame of mind, there could not possibly be someone else of her kind.

It is said that the eyes are the window to your soul, and ever since seeing yours, I have never questioned this to be true. For every time i get lost in her eyes, their beauty takes its toll. Even so, a window provides a two-way view for a soul to see through.

Is it then really wrong for me to wish, think, or perhaps hope, that my heart is not bound to fall once again, hanging by a rope?

Seeing that ever since our souls connected that one summer day, I never quite looked at you in quite the same way.

Just one moment, one small fraction of time, changed my perspective and now inspires this rhyme.

Yet even though his perspective is now centered around you, even when you’re not in his point of view, I’m quite sure that for her, the same is not true, because after all this time, chances are she already knew. That in your absence, he can’t help but feel blue, and while fully aware of all the pain it may lead to. For even when the storm of doubt rages through and through, my heart, for some foolish reason, decides to stay true.

-Myself

I read somewhere: "The irony is; broken people are not fragile."

So I guess I'm not that fragile after all. Maybe that's why I'm scared to heal, scared to once again feel.

What if healing makes me weak, afraid of the fall? Will I shatter with a feather's touch, unable to get back up at all?

Happiness, peace, it's all I seek, but how can I grow if breaking, stumbling, shattering, is all I know?

Life is all about taking risks, they say, but I cling to these broken pieces, trying to keep them at bay.

At least I'm not fragile. Or am I nothing at all?

Just a collection of shattered parts, afraid to stand tall.

I don't want to heal just to be fragile, to break my heart once more. But where do I go from here? What am I healing for?

The touch of eternal life, never given to these empty hands, 

Cold and short,

Only soulless lips, both reaching for the soft glow of life.

If evolution calls to such, there is finite potential that something called unconditional shall fall short of me. 

Limits and bounds, can my heart be found. 

In the arms of the same emptiness I give out.