Last Kiss

What is it about that last kiss?

The last kiss before lovers break up, to stop loving anymore. Where, for one, the kiss is a goodbye and to the other, a heart broken.
The last kiss, where he watches you fall asleep. Running his hand through your hair, as if putting the happiness back into your dreams.
The last kiss, to the one, you know will never come back. No matter how much you love, no matter how much the pain.
The last kiss, which was the first, to acknowledge feelings that could never summon the courage to ask for more.

What is it about that last kiss?

The last kiss, which in no matter what form, is a kiss of love,
The last kiss, with all of its ifs and buts, is a kiss of love,
A love, long forgotten,
A love, betrayed,
A love, that shall always remain.

The last kiss. 

Invincible

Invincible - that's how it feels to be standing up there, beside the person, you know you want to spend your life with.
When you are walking through that sea of happy faces, teary eyes, a camera here, a flash there, you are walking towards a person who is as nervous and excited as you are. Towards someone who is walking towards you with open arms and love in his eyes, leaving behind the exact same apprehensions, that you left behind. Your eyes, all dreamy, are lost, for an instant, in the noisy, colourful wave of people, but soon return to their rightful place, to seek solace in his eyes.
All you want then, is to live in that moment, to treasure the happiness in your parents' eyes forever, to hug all those friends you have grown up with, to dance with all those cousins and relatives, young and old and to flash another smile, strike another pose.
All you want to do then, is to live in that moment, bonded for life.
Invincible - that's how it feels. 

Chandelier

Somewhere high, up above, an angel sheds tears

Heaves a cold sigh and looks down upon the Earth,

And just like that, snowflakes millions and precious

Become my chandelier.

Mirrors, crystals and reflections galore

A glint here, a flash there

A hint of moonlight,

Dark walls lit up like forests by fireflies.

Woven around a single thought of love

A dream hanging preciously,

Alone in the countless specks of glittery light

Bizarre reflections splashed across hopelessly.

Sparkling with love for a boy afar

She waits with hope, for the boy with dreams in his eyes.

The angel looks upon and smiles

And at his lips, her last tear dies.

Magic

What is Magic, really? But then it is the unreal, that is magic. Isn't it?                                                        
That which is not, in which we believe. That's magic.                                                                                    
That which is so fleeting, that it holds our attention. That's magic.                                                                
That which, the more you try to solve, the more disillusioned you get. That's magic.                                      

And love is magical, they say.                                                                        

love-d?

Can there ever be a past tense in love?

You love once, you love forever.
You love once, you love twice.

A single soul, a single heart, a single mind
Millions of convoluted emotions
The entire outer space inside
And from the depths of a mysterious human soul,
You love

You love once, you love twice

A single life,
Multiple whims and a gazillion fancies
A single life
Multitude of 'persons'
And from the unknown depths of a very human soul
You love

You love once, you love twice

For all its worth,
when you love once, you love forever.

Black on White

There is this postcard. A postcard worth a pound or two. 


It has a picture in black and white. The picture so pretty, a colourful quilt of moments long gone by. Its handwritten on the other side, by a beloved, long lost friend. The writing so familiar, evokes a million memories, in every slant and sway. 


It's lost somewhere, this postcard. Can you help me find it? The postcard with the picture and the handwriting. One that brings with it, a time when friendship was love. A time, when nights were incomplete without long conversations. A time, without unanswered questions and unquestioned answers . A time, when you and I were we.


There is this postcard. A postcard thats priceless. 


I think it's lost in time. Lost in the space between you and me.